DAYS 


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otorp.  I„. 


FOOTBALL  DAYS 


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THREE  VICTORIOUS  PRINCETON  CAPTAINS 


lllLLEBKAND,  COCHRAN,  EDWARDS 


FOOTBALL  DAYS 

MEMORIES  OF  THE  GAME  AND 
OF  THE  MEN  BEHIND  THE  BALL 


BY 

WILLIAM  H.  EDWARDS 

PRINCETON  1900 


WITH  INTRODUCTION  BY 

WALTER  CAMP 

YALE  1880 


MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 

1916 


Copyright,  1916,  By 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK 


Published  November,   1916 
Second  Printing,  November,  1916 


THE  QUINN  «  BODEN  CO.  PRESS 


Princeton  '95 

HONORED  AND  BELOVED  BY  HOSTS  OP  FRIENDS,  HE  REPRE- 
SENTED THE  HIGHEST  IDEALS  OF  AMERICAN  FOOTBALL,  NOT 
ONLY  IN  LIFE,  BUT  IN  HIS  DEATH  UPON  THE  BATTLEFIELD  IN 
FRANCE. 

AS  I  THINK  OF  HIM,  THE  STIRRING  LINES  OP  HENRY  NEW- 
BOLDT  COME  TO  ME  AS  A  FITTING  EULOGY: 

VITA  LAMPADA 

There's  a  breathless  hush  in  the  Close  to-night — 
Ten  to  make  and  the  match  to  win — 
A  bumping  pitch  and  a  blinding  light, 
An  hour  to  play  and  the  last  man  in. 

And  it's  not  for  the  sake  of  a  ribboned-coat 
Or  the  selfish  hope  of  a  season's  fame. 
But  his  captain's  hand  on  his  shoulder  smote, 
"Play  up !  play  up !  and  play  the  game !" 

The  sand  of  the  desert  is  sodden  red — 
Red  with  the  wreck  of  a  square  that  broke, 
The  gatling  jammed  and  the  Colonel  dead 
And  the  Regiment  blind  with  dust  and  smoke. 

The  river  of  death  has  brimmed  its  banks. 
And  England's  far,  and  honor  a  name — 
But  the  voice  of  a  school  boy  rallies  the  ranks, 
"Play  up!  play  up!  and  play  the  game!" 

This  is  the  word  that  year  by  year 
While  in  her  place  the  school  is  set 
Every  one  of  the  sons  must  hear. 
And  none  that  hears  it  dares  forget. 

Thus  they  all  with  a  joyful  mind — 
Bear  their  life  like  a  torch  in  flame — 
And  failing,  fling  to  the  host  behind, 
"Play  up !  play  up !  and  play  the  game !" 


1517151 


GREETING 

I  value  more  highly  than  any  other  athletic  gift 
I  have  ever  received,  the  Princeton  football  cham- 
pionship banner  that  hangs  on  my  wall.  It  was 
given  to  me  by  a  friend  who  sent  three  boys  to 
Princeton.  It  is  a  duplicate  of  the  one  that 
hangs  in  the  trophy  room  of  the  gymnasium 
there. 

How  often  have  I  gazed  longingly  at  the 
names  of  my  loyal  team-mates  inscribed  upon  it. 
Many  times  have  I  run  over  in  my  mind  the  part 
that  each  one  played  on  the  memorable  occasion 
when  that  banner  was  won.  Memories  cluster 
about  that  token  that  are  dear  and  sacred  to  me. 

I  see  before  me  not  only  the  faces  of  my  team, 
but  the  faces  of  men  of  other  years  and  other  uni- 
versities who  have  contributed  so  much  to  the 
great  game  of  football.  I  recall  the  preparatory 
school  days  and  the  part  that  football  played  in 
our  school  and  college  careers.  Again  I  see  the 
athletic  fields  and  the  dressing  rooms.  I  hear 
the  earnest  pleading  of  the  coaches. 

I  see  the  teams  run  out  upon  the  field  and  hear 
the  cheering  throng.  The  coin  is  tossed  in  the 
air.     The   shrill  blast  of  the  referee's  whistle 

vii 


GREETING 

signals  the  game  to  start.     The  ball  is  kicked  off, 
and  the  contest  is  on. 

The  thousands  of  spectators  watch  breath- 
lessly. For  the  tune  the  whole  world  is  for- 
gotten, except  for  the  issue  being  fought  out 
there  before  them. 

But  we  are  not  dressed  in  football  suits  now- 
adays. We  are  on  the  side  lines.  We  have  a 
different  part  to  play.  Years  have  compelled  a 
change.  In  spirit,  however,  we  are  still  "in  the 
game." 

It  is  to  share  these  memories  with  all  true  lovers 
of  football  and  to  pay  a  tribute  to  the  heroes  of 
the  gridiron  who  are  no  longer  with  us  that  I 
have  undertaken  this  volume.  Let  us  together 
retrace  the  days  in  which  we  lived :  days  of  prep- 
aration, days  of  victory,  and  days  of  defeat.  Let 
us  also  look  into  the  faces  of  some  of  the  football 
heroes  of  years  ago,  and  recall  the  achievements 
that  made  them  famous.  And  let  us  recall,  too, 
the  men  of  the  years  just  past  who  have  so  nobly 
upheld  the  traditions  of  the  American  game  of 
football,  and  helped  to  place  it  on  its  present  high 
plane. 

William  H.  Edwards. 


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MY  CORNER 

"Fond  memory  sheds  tlie  liiilit  of  oilier  davs  around  me." 


PROLOGUE 

They  say  that  no  man  ever  made  a  successful 
football  player  who  was  lacking  in  any  quality 
of  imagination.  If  this  be  true,  and  time  and 
again  has  it  been  proved,  then  there  is  no  more 
fitting  dedication  to  a  book  dealing  with  the  grid- 
iron heroes  of  the  past  than  to  a  man  like  Johnny 
Poe.  For  football  is  the  abandon  of  body  and 
mind  to  the  obsession  of  the  spirit  that  knows  no 
obstacle,  counts  no  danger  and  for  the  time  be- 
ing is  dull  and  callous  to  physical  pain  or  ex- 
haustion. It  is  a  something  that  makes  one  see 
visions  as  Johnny  saw  them! 

There  is  no  sport  in  the  world  that  brings  out 
unselfishness  as  does  this  great  gridiron  game 
of  ours.  Every  fall,  second  and  scrub  teams 
throughout  the  country  sacrifice  themselves  only 
to  let  others  enter  the  promised  land  of  victory. 
It  is  a  strange  thing  but  one  almost  never  hears 
any  real  football  player  criticise  another's  mak- 
ing the  team,  either  his  own  or  an  All  America. 
Although  the  player  in  this  sport  appreciates  the 
loyal  support  of  the  thousands  on  the  stands, 
every  man  realizes  that  his  checks  on  the  Bank 
of  Cheers  can  never  be  cashed  unless  there  is  a 
deposit  of  hard  work  and  practice.  Perhaps  all 
this  in  an  indistinct  and  indefinite  way  explains 
why  football  players,  the  country  over,  under- 


PROLOGUE 

stand  each  other  and  that  when  the  game  is  at- 
tacked for  any  reason  they  stand  shoulder  to 
shoulder  in  defence  of  what  they  know  down  in 
the  bottom  of  their  hearts  has  such  an  influence 
on  character  building.  And  there  is  no  one  better 
fitted  to  tell  the  story  of  this  and  of  the  gridiron 
heroes  than  Big  Bill  Edwards,  known  not  only 
as  a  player  but  far  and  wide  as  one  of  the  best 
officials  that  ever  handled  the  game.  "A  square 
deal  and  no  roughing"  was  his  motto,  and  every 
one  realized  it  and  accepted  every  decision  un- 
questioningly.  His  association  with  players  in 
so  many  angles  has  given  him  a  particular  in- 
sight into  the  sport  and  has  enabled  him  to  teU 
this  story  as  no  one  else  could. 

And  what  names  to  conj  ure  with !  The  whistle 
blows  and  a  shadowy  host  springs  into  action  be- 
fore one's  misty  eyes — Alex  Moffat,  the  star 
of  kickers,  Hector  Cowan,  Heffelfinger,  Gordon 
Brown,  Ma  Newell,  TiTixton  Hare,  Glass,  Neil 
Snow  and  Shevlin,  giants  of  linemen.  But  I 
must  stop  before  I  trespass  upon  what  Bill  Ed- 
wards will  do  better.  Here's  to  them  all — forty 
years  of  heroes  I 

Waltee  Camp. 


WALTER  CAMP 
Yale's  Captain,  '78-79. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Hillebrand,  Cochran,  Edwards   ....      Frontispiece 

My  Corner 

Walter  Camp,  Yale's  Captain  '78-79  ..... 

FACING 
PAGE 

The  Old  Fifth  Avenue  Send-Off 1 

Old  Yale  Heroes — Lee  McClung's  Team  ....       5 

We  Beat  Andover 11 

Lafayette's  Great  Team 24 

House  in  Disorder 30 

Hit  Your  Man  Low 32 

Repairs 34 

The  Old  Faithfuls 39 

Jim  Rodgers'  Team 45 

Cochran  Was  Game  to  the  End 48 

On  to  New  Haven — All  Dressed  Up  and  Ready  to  Go     54 

Hillebrand's  Last  Charge 60 

Al  Sharpe's  Goal 64 

Touching  the  Match  to  Victory 67 

Alex  Moffat  and  His  Team 82 

Old  Penn  Heroes 100 

Pa  Corbin's  Team 108 

Breakers  Ahead— Phil  King  in  the  Old  Days  .      .      .125 

Lookout,  Princeton! 130 

Barrett    on    One    of    His    Famous    Dashes;    Exeter- 

Andover   Game,   1915 142 

Bill  Hollenback  Coming  at  You 147 

"The  Next  Day  the  Picture  Was  Gone" — Jim  Cooney 

Making  a  Hole  for  Dana  Kafer 158 

Johnny  Poe,  Football  Player  and  Soldier  .  .  .  .181 
Northcraft  Kicking  the  Field  Goal  Anticipated  by  the 

Navy  and  Feared  by  the  Army 200 

xi 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


Cadets  and  Middies  Entering  the  Field  ....  224 
Two  Aces — Bill  Morley  and  Harold  Weeks     .      .      .251 

Vic  Kennard's  Kick 255 

Sam  White's   Run 261 

King,   of   Harvard,   Making   a   Run;   Mahan   Putting 

Black  on  His  Head 268 

Princeton's  1899  Team   ..........   272 

"Nothing  Got  by  John  DeWitt" 277 

John  DeWitt  About  to  Pick  Up  the  Ball    .      .      .      .280 
The  Ever   Reliable   Brickley — A  Football  Thorough- 
bred—Tack Hardwick 284 

The  Poe  Family 296 

Just  Boys 298 

Hobey  Baker,  Walter  Camp,  Jr.,  Snake  Ames,  Jr.     .   303 

The  Elect 310 

How  It  Hurts  to  Lose .337 

Cornell's  Great  Team— 1915 344 

One  Scene  Never  Photographed  in  Football     .      .      .   349 

Harvard,   1915 354 

The  Greatest  Indian  of  Them  All 357 

Learning  the  Charge 363 

Billy  Bull  Advising  with  Captain  Talbot     .      .      .      .367 

Michigan's  Famous  1901  Team ■.-   370 

Columbia  Back  in  the  Game,  1915 381 

Close  to  a  Thriller.     Erwin  of  Pennsylvania  Scoring 

Against  Cornell 386 

Crash  of  Conflict.  When  Charge  Meets  Charge  .  .  407 
Ainsworth,  Yale's  Terror  in  an  Uphill  Game  .  .  .416 
Two  to  One  He  Gets  Away — Brickley  Being  Tackled 

by  Wilson  and  Avery 422 

Snapping  the  Ball  with  Lewis.     "Two  Inseparables" 

—Frank  Hinkey   and  the   Ball 428 

Marshall  Newell 434 

McClung,  Referee,  Shevlin  and  Hogan     .      .      .      .450 


xu 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Page 

I.— PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS 1-17 

My  First  Glimpse  of  a  Varsity  Team — The 
Yale  Eleven  of  1891 — Lee  McClung — Vance  Mc- 
Cormick  —  HefFelfinger  —  Sanford — Impressions 
made  upon  a  Boy — St.  John's  Military  School — 
Lawrenceville — Making  the  Team — Andover  and 
Hill  School  Games. 

IL— FRESHMAN  YEAR 1&-  29 

The  Freedom  of  Freshman  Year  is  Attractive 
— Catching  the  Spirit  of  the  Place — Searching  for 
Football  Material — The  Cannon  Rush — Early 
Training  with  Jack  McMasters — Tie  Game  with 
Lafayette  at  Easton — Humiliation  of  being  taken 
out  of  a  Game — Cornell  Game — Joe  Beacham's 
Fair  Admirer  in  the  Bleachers — Bill  Church's 
Threat  Carried  Out — Garry  Cochran's  Victories 
against  Harvard  and  Yale. 

III.— ELBOW  TO  ELBOW 30-41 

Dressing  for  Practice — Out  upon  the  Field — 
Tackling — After  Practice,  Back  to  the  Dressing- 
room — How  a  Player  Finds  Himself — The  Train- 
ing Table — Team  Mates — A  Surprise  for  John 
DeWitt's  Team. 

IV.— MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAINIE  ...     42-  53 

If  We   could   only   Correct   jSIistakes   We   All 

Made — Defeats  might  be  Turned  into  Victory — 

The  Fellow  tliat  let  Athletics  be  the  Big  Thing  in 

His  College  Life — The  '97  Defeat — No  Recogni- 

siii 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Page 

tion  of  Old  Schoolmates — My  Opponent  was 
Charlie  Chadwick — Jim  Rodgers  the  Yale  Cap- 
tain— The  Cochran-De  Saulles  Compact — Cochran 
Injured — His  Last  Game — Ad  Kelly's  Great 
Work — Mistakes  Caused  Sadness — Cornell  De- 
feating Princeton  at  Ithaca  in  1899 — No  Out- 
stretched Hands  at  Princeton  for  our  Home- 
coming. 

v.— MY  LAST  GAME     ......     54-  67 

A  Desire  to  Make  the  Last  Game  the  Best — 
On  to  New  Haven — Optimism — The  Start  of  the 
Game — Bosey  Reiter's  Touchdown — Yale  Scores 
on  a  Block  Kick — Al  Sharpe's  Goal  from  the 
Field — Score  10  to  6,  Yale  Leading — Arthur 
Poe's  Goal  from  the  Field — Princeton  Victory — 
The  Joy  of  Winning — The  Reception  at  Prince- 
ton. 

VI.— HEROES  OF  THE  PAST— EARLY 

DAYS        ........     6»-  9^ 

Treasured  Memory  of  Those  who  have  Gone 
Before — Where  are  the  Old-time  Heroes? — ^Wal- 
ter Camp — F.  R.  Vernon — Camp  as  a  Captain — 
Chummy  Eaton — John  Harding — Eugene  Baker 
— Fred  Remington — Theodore  MeNair — Alexan- 
der Moffat — Wyllys  Terry — Memories  of  John 
C.  Bell. 

VIL— GEORGE  V\^OODRUFF'S  STORY  .     93-101 
His    Entrance  to   Yale — Making  the   Team — 
Recollections   of  the   Men   he   Played  With   and 
Against — The    Lamar    Run — Pennsylvania    Ex- 
periences. 

VIIL— ANECDOTES    AND    RECOLLEC- 
TIONS     10^124 

Old-time  Signals — Fun  with  Bert  Hansen — 
Sport  Donnelly — Billy  Rhodes  and  GiU — Victo- 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Page 

rious  Days  at  Yale — Corbin's  1888  Team — Pa 
Corbin's  Speech  when  his  Team  was  Ban- 
queted— Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walter  Camp,  Head 
Coaches  of  the  Yale  Football  Team  in  1888— 
Cowan  the  Great — Story  of  His  Football  Days — 
He  was  Disqualified  by  Wyllys  Terry — Tribute 
to  Heffelfinger — Going  Back  with  John  Cranston. 

IX.— THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER       .   125-163 

The  Day  Sanford  Made  the  Yale  Team— Parke 
Davis — Sanford  and  Yost  Obstructing  the  TraflBc 
—Phil  King— The  Old  Flying  Wedges— Pop 
Gailey — Charlie  Young — An  Evening  with  Jim 
Rodgers — Vance  McCormick  and  Denny  O'Neil 
— Dartmouth  and  Some  of  Her  Men — Dave  Fultz 
— Christy  Mathewson  at  Bucknell — Jack  Munn 
Tells  of  Buffalo  Bill— Booth  Tells  of  his  West- 
ern Experiences — Harry  Kersberg — HefF  Her- 
ring at  Merton  College — Carl  Flanders — Bill 
Horr. 

XI— COLLEGE       TRADITIONS       AND 

SPIRIT 164-180 

College  Life  in  America  is  Rich  in  Traditions 
— The  Value  of  College  Spirit — Each  College 
Has  its  Own  Traditions — Alumni  Parade — 
School  Master  and  Boy — Victory  must  never 
Overshadow  Honor — Constructive  Criticism  of 
the  Alumni — Mass  Meeting  Enthusiasm — Horse 
Edwards,  Princeton  '89 — Job  E.  Hedges. 

XL— JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY  .      .   181-193 

Private  W.  Faulkner,  a  Comrade  in  the  Black 
Watch,  Tells  of  Poe's  Death — Johnny's  Last 
Words — Paul  INIacWhelan  Gives  London  Im- 
pressions of  Poe's  Death — Anecdotes  that  Johnny 
Poe  Wrote  While  in  Nevada. 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Page 

XII.— ARMY  AND  NAVY  .....  194-225 
Character  and  Training  of  West  Point  and  An- 
napolis Players — Experience  of  the  Visitor 
Watching  the  Drill  of  Battalion — ^Annapolis 
Recollections  and  Football  Traditions  at  Naval 
Academy — Old  Players — A  Trip  de  Luxe  to  West 
Point — West  Point  Recollections — Harmon  Graves 
— The  Way  They  Have  in  the  Army — The  Army 
and  Navy  Game. 

XIII.— HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME  .  ^^6-24<6 
In  Football,  as  it  is  in  Life,  We  have  no  Use 
for  a  Quitter — Football  a  Game  for  the  Man  who 
Has  Nerve — Many  a  Small  Man  has  Made  a  Big 
Man  look  Ridiculous — Morris  Ely  Game  Though 
Handicapped — Val  Flood's  Recollections — Andy 
Smith — Vonabalde  Gammon  of  Georgia. 

XIV.— BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     247-285 

Billy  Bull's  Recollections  of  Yale  Games — The 
Day  Columbia  Beat  Yale — Dressing  Room  Scene 
where  Doxology  Was  Sung — Account  by  Richard 
Harding  Davis — Introducing  Vic  Kemiard  of 
Harvard  Fame — Opportunist  Extraordinary — 
His  Experience  with  Mr.  E.  H.  Coy — Charlie 
Barrett,  of  Cornell — Eddie  Hart  of  Princeton — 
Sam  White — Joe  DufF — Side  Line  Thoughts  of 
Doctor  W.  A.  Brooks  and  Evert  Jansen  Wendell 
— New  Haven  Wreck — Eddie  Mahan  talking — 
His  Opinion  of  Frank  Glick — George  Chadwick  of 
Yale — Arthur  Poe — Story  of  his  Run  and  of  his 
Kick — John  DeWitt's  Story — Tichenor,  of  Geor- 
gia— "Bobbing  Up  and  Down"  Story — Charlie 
Brickley. 

XV.— THE  BLOODY  ANGLE   ....   286-295 

Going  Back  to  the  Rough  Days — Princeton  vs. 
Harvard    Fall    of    '87    at    Jarvis    Field — Luther 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Page 

Price's  Experiences  in  the  Game — Cowan's  Dis- 
qualification by  Wyilys  Terry — Tlie  Umpire — 
Walter  Camp  was  Referee — Holden  Carried  Off 
the  Field — Bob  Church's  Valor. 


XVI.— THE  FAMILY  IN  FOOTBALL'       .   296-305 

Football  Men  in  Two  Distinct  Classes — Those 
who  are  Made  into  Players  by  the  Coaches  and 
Those  who  are  Born  with  the  Football  Instinct — 
The  Poes,  Camps,  Winters,  Ames,  Drapers, 
Riggs,  Youngs,  Withingtons,  etc. 

XVII.— OLTR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS       .  306-336 

Our  Good  Old  Trainers — Jack  McMasters 
— "Dear  Old  Jim  Robinson" — Mike  Murphy  the 
Dean  of  Trainers— "The  Old  Mike"— A  Chat 
with  Pooch  Donovan — Keene  Fitzpatrick  and  his 
Experiences — Mike  Sweeney — Jack  Moakley — 
There  is  much  Humor  in  Johnny  Mack — Hug- 
gins  of  Brown — Harry  Tuthill — Doctor  W.  M. 
Conant,  Harvard  '79,  First  Doctor  in  Charge  of 
any  team. 

XVIIL— NIGHTMARES 337-348 

Frank  Morse,  of  Princeton  on  the  Spirit  in  De- 
feat— Tom  Shevlin's  Story — Nightmares  of  W. 
C.  Rhodes — A  Yale  Nightmare — Sam  Morse — 
Jim  Hogan — The  Cornell  Game  of  1915  is  Eddie 
Mahan's  Nightmare — Jack  De  Saulles'  Nightmare. 

XIX.— MEN  WHO  COACHED       .      .      .  349-382 

No  coaches  in  the  Old  Days — Personality 
Counts  in  Coaching — Football  is  Fickle — Haugh- 
ton  at  Harvard  at  the  Psychological  Moment — Old 
Harvard  Coaches — Al  Sharpe — Glenn  Warner — 
The  Indians — Billy  Bull  in  the  Game — Sanford, 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Page 

the  Unique — Making  of  Chadwick — ^W.  R.  Tiche- 
nor,  Emergency  Coach  of  the  South — Auburn  Rec- 
ollections— Listening  to  Yost — Reggie  Brown 
— Jimmy  Knox — Harvard  Scouts — Dartmouth 
Holds  a  Unique  Position  in  College  Football — Ed 
Hall,  the  father  of  Dartmouth  Football — Myron 
E.  Witham,  Captain  of  the  Dartmouth  Team — 
Walter  McCornack — Eddie  Holt's  Coaching — 
Harry  Kersberg's  Harvard  Coaching  Recollections 
— Making  Two  Star  Players  from  the  Football 
Discards — Vic  Kennard  and  Rex  Ver  Wiebe — 
John  H.  Rush— Tad  Jones— T.  N.  Metcalf— Tom 
Thorp — Bob  Folwell — At  Pennsylvania. 

XX.— UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE  .      .      .   383-406 

"Why  Did  He  Give  That  Penalty  ?"— Emo- 
tions of  an  Official — John  Bell's  Recollections  as 
an  Official — In  the  Old  Days  One  Official  Han- 
dled the  Entire  Game — Dashiell's  Reminis- 
cences— Matthew  McClung — Conversation  with 
John  L.  Sullivan — My  Own  Personal  Experiences 
— Evarts  Wrenn  at  Work — Dan  Hurley — Bill 
Crowell — Phil  Draper's  Ideas — Wyllys  Terry's 
Official  Recollections — Explanation  of  the  Cowan 
Disqualification — Pa  Corbin — Joe  Pendleton — 
Refereeing  with  Nate  Tufts — Okeson. 

XXI.— CRASH  OF  CONFLICT      .      .      .  407-433 

The  First  Five  Minutes  of  Play — A  Good  Start 
usually  means  a  Good  Ending — Bracelet  in  the 
Game — Lueder  and  Blondy  Wallace — "I've  Got 
You  Buffaloed" — Tom  Shevlin  remarked:  "Mike, 
This  Isn't  Football — It's  War" — Bemus  Pierce: 
"Now  Keep  your  Eyes  Open  and  Find  out 
who  it  Was"— "If  You  Won't  be  Beat,  You 
Can't  be  Beat,"  said  Johnny  Poe — Rinehart  Tells 
how  he  Tried  to  Get  even  with  Sam  Boyle — 
Barkie   Donald   and   Bemus    Pierce — The    Yale- 


CONTENTS 

Chap.  Pack 

Harvard  Game  at  Springfield  '94 — Result;  No 
Game  for  Nine  Years — Frank  Hinkey  and 
Wrightington's  Broken  Collar-bone — Joe  Beach- 
am's  Paragon — Sandy  Hunt — Bill  Hollenback. 

XXIL— LEST  WE  FORGET     ....   434-460 
Marshall    Newell — Gordon    Brown — James    J. 
Hogan — Thomas  J.  Shevlin — Francis  H.  Burr — 
Neil      Snow — Billy      Bannard — Harry      Hooper 
— Richard  Harding  Davis — McClimg. 

XXIII.— ALOHA       ....      .      .      .  461-464 

Hail  and  Farewell — The  Old  Game  and  the 
New  Compared — Exclusively  Collegiate  Sport — 
Isaac  H.  Bromley,  Yale  '53,  Sums  up  the  Spirit 
of  College  Life  and  Sport! 


idi 


FOOTBALL  DAYS 

CHAPTER  I 
PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS 

TO  every  man  there  comes  a  moment  that 
marks  the  turning  point  of  his  career. 
For  me  it  was  a  certain  Satm'day  morn- 
ing in  the  autumn  of  1891.  As  I  look  back 
upon  it,  across  the  years,  I  feel  something  of  the 
same  thrill  that  stirred  my  boyish  blood  that 
day  and  opened  a  door  through  which  I  looked 
into  a  new  world. 

I  had  just  come  to  the  citj^,  a  country  boy, 
from  my  home  in  Lisle,  N.  Y.,  to  attend  the  Hor- 
ace Mann  School.  As  I  walked  across  JNIadison 
Square,  I  glanced  toward  the  old  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel,  where  my  eyes  fell  upon  the  scene  de- 
picted in  the  accompanying  picture.  Almost 
before  I  was  aware  of  it  my  curiosity  led  me  to 
mingle  with  the  crowd  surging  in  and  out  of  the 
hotel,  and  I  learned  by  questioning  the  bystand- 
ers that  it  was  the  headquarters  of  the  Yale 
team,  which  that  afternoon  was  to  play  Prince- 
ton at  the  Polo  Grounds.  The  players  were 
about  to  leave  the  hotel  for  the  field,  and  I  hur- 
ried inside  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  them. 


2  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

The  air  was  charged  with  enthusiasm,  and  I 
soon  caught  the  infection — although  it  was  all 
new  to  me  then — of  the  vitaL^:scer_of  jcoUege 
spirit  which  later  so  completely  dominated  my 
hfe.  I  recall  with  vividness  how  I  lingered  and 
waited  for  something  to  happen.  Men  were 
standing  in  groups,  and  all  eyes  were  centered 
upon  the  heroes  of  the  team.  Every  one  was 
talking  football.  Some  of  the  names  heard  then 
have  never  been  forgotten  by  me.  There  was 
the  giant  Heffelfinger  whom  every  one  seemed 
anxious  to  meet.  I  was  told  that  he  was  the 
crack  Yale  guard.  I  looked  at  him,  and,  then 
and  there,  I  joined  the  hero  worshippers. 

I  also  remember  Lee  McClung,  the  Yale  cap- 
tain, who  seemed  to  reahze  the  responsibiUties 
that  rested  upon  his  shoulders.  There  was  an 
air  of  restraint  upon  him.  In  later  years  he  be- 
came Treasurer  of  the  United  States  and  his 
signature  was  upon  the  country's  currency.  My 
most  vivid  recollection  of  him  will  be,  however, 
as  he  stood  there  that  day  in  the  corridor  of  the 
famous  old  hotel,  on  the  day  of  a  great  football 
conflict  with  Princeton.  Then  Sanford  was 
pointed  out  to  me,  the  Yale  center-rush.  I  re- 
call his  eagerness  to  get  out  to  the  "bus"  and  to 
be  on  his  way  to  the  field.  When  the  starting 
signal  was  given  by  the  captain,  Sanford's  huge 
form  was  in  the  front  rank  of  the  crowd  that 
poured  out  upon  the  sidewalk. 

The  whole  scene  was  intensely  thrilling  to  me, 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  S 

and  I  did  not  leave  until  the  last  player  had  en- 
tered the  "bus"  and  it  drove  off.  Crowds  of 
Yale  men  and  spectators  gave  the  players  cheer 
after  cheer  as  they  rolled  away.  The  flags  with 
which  the  "bus"  was  decorated  waved  in  the 
breeze,  and  I  watched  them  with  indescribable 
fascination  until  they  were  out  of  sight.  The 
noise  made  by  the  Yale  students  I  learned  after- 
wards was  college  cheering,  and  college  cheers 
once  heard  by  a  boy  are  never  forgotten. 

Many  in  that  throng  were  going  to  the  game. 
I  could  not  go,  but  the  scene  that  I  had  just 
witnessed  gave  me  an  inspiration.  It  stirred 
something  within  me,  and  down  deep  in  my  soul 
there  was  born  a  desire  to  go  to  college. 

I  made  my  way  directly  to  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
gymnasium,  then  at  the  corner  of  Fourth  Ave- 
nue and  Twenty-third  Street.  Athletics  had  for 
me  a  greater  attraction  than  ever  before,  and 
from  that  day  I  applied  myself  with  increased 
enthusiasm  to  the  work  of  the  gj'^mnasium. 

The  following  autumn  I  entered  St.  John's 
Military  Academy  at  ]Manlius,  N.  Y.,  a  short 
distance  from  my  old  home.  I  was  only  seven- 
teen years  of  age  and  weighed  217  pounds. 

Former  Adjutant  General  WiUiam  Verbeck 
— then  Colonel  Verbeck — was  Head  Master. 
Before  I  was  fairly  settled  in  my  room,  the  Colo- 
nel had  drafted  me  as  a  candidate  for  the  foot- 
ball team.  I  wanted  to  try  for  the  team,  and 
was  as  eager  to  make  it  as  he  evidently  was  to 


4  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

haA^e  me  make  it.  But  I  did  not  have  any  foot- 
ball togs,  and  the  supply  at  the  school  did  not 
contain  any  large  enough. 

So  I  had  to  have  some  built  for  me.  The  day 
they  arrived,  much  to  my  disappointment,  I 
found  the  trousers  were  made  of  white  canvas. 
Their  newness  was  appalling  and  I  pictured  my- 
self in  them  with  feelings  of  dismay.  I  robbed 
them  of  their  whiteness  that  night  by  mopping 
up  a  lot  of  mud  with  them  behind  the  gymnasium. 
Wlien  they  had  dried — by  morning — ^they  looked 
like  a  pair  of  real  football  trousers. 

George  Redington  of  Yale  was  our  football 
coach.  He  was  full  of  contagious  fire.  Red- 
ington  seemed  interested  in  me  and  gave  me 
much  individual  coaching.  Colonel  Verbeck 
matched  him  in  love  of  the  game.  He  not  only 
beheved  in  athletics,  but  he  played  at  end  on  the 
second  team,  and  it  was  pretty  difficult  for  the 
boys  to  get  the  best  of  him.  They  made  an 
unusual  effort  to  put  the  Colonel  out  of  the 
plays,  but,  try  as  hard  as  they  might,  he  gener- 
ally came  out  on  top.  The  result  was  a  decided 
increase  in  the  spirit  of  the  game. 

We  had  one  of  the  best  preparatory  school 
teams  in  that  locality,  but  owing  to  our  distance 
from  the  larger  preparatory  schools,  we  were 
forced  to  play  Syracuse,  Hobart,  Hamilton, 
Rochester,  Colgate,  and  Cazenovia  Seminary 
— all  of  whom  we  defeated.  We  also  played 
against  the  Syracuse  Athletic  Association,  whose 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  5 

team  was  composed  of  professional  athletes  as 
well  as  former  college  players.  Bert  Hanson, 
who  had  been  a  great  center  at  Yale,  was  one  of 
this  team. 

Recalling  the  men  who  played  on  our  St. 
John's  team,  I  am  confident  that  if  all  of  them 
had  gone  to  college,  most  of  them  would  have 
made  the  Varsity.     In  fact,  some  did. 

It  was  decided  that  I  should  go  to  Lawrence- 
ville  School,  en  route  to  Princeton.  It  was  on 
the  trip  from  Trenton  to  Lawrenceville,  in  the 
big  stage  coach  loaded  with  boys,  I  got  my  first 
dose  of  homesickness.  The  prospect  of  new 
surroundings  made  me  yearn  for  St.  John's. 

The  "blue  hour"  of  boyhood,  however,  is  a 
brief  one.  I  was  soon  engaged  in  conversation 
with  a  httle  fellow  who  was  sitting  beside  me  and 
who  began  discussing  the  eve^^-popular  subject  of 
football.  He  was  very  inquisitive  and  wanted 
to  know  if  I  had  ever  played  the  game,  and  if  I 
was  going  to  try  for  the  team. 

He  told  me  about  the  great  game  Lawrence- 
ville played  with  the  Princeton  Varsity  the  year 
before,  when  Lawrenceville  scored  six  points 
before  Princeton  realized  what  they  were  really 
up  against.  He  fascinated  me  by  his  graphic 
description.  There  was  a  glowing  account  of 
the  playing  of  Garry  Cochran,  the  great  captain 
of  the  Lawrenceville  team,  who  had  just  grad- 
uated and  gone  to  Princeton,  together  with 
Sport  Armstrong,  the  giant  tackle. 


6  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

These  men  were  sure  to  live  in  Lawrenceville's 
history  if  for  nothing  else  than  the  part  they  had 
played  in  that  notable  game,  although  Prince- 
ton rallied  and  won  8  to  6.  It  was  not  long 
before  I  learned  that  my  newly-made  friend  was 
Billy  McGibbon,  a  member  of  the  Lawrenceville 
baseball  team. 

"Just  wait  until  you  see  Charlie  de  SauUes 
and  Billy  Dibble  play  behind  the  line,"  he  went 
on;  and  from  that  moment  I  began  to  be  a  part 
of  the  new  life,  the  threshold  of  which  I  was  cross- 
ing. Strangely  enough  the  memory  of  getting 
settled  in  my  new  quarters  faded  with  the  event- 
ful moment  when  the  call  for  candidates  came, 
and  I  went  out  with  the  rest  of  the  boys  to  try 
for  the  team. 

Competition  was  keen  and  many  candidates 
offered  themselves.  I  was  placed  on  the  scrub 
team.  One  of  my  first  attempts  for  supremacy 
was  in  the  early  part  of  the  season  when  I  was 
placed  as  right  guard  of  the  scrub  against  Perry 
Wentz,  an  old  star  player  of  the  school  and  ab- 
solutely sure  of  his  position.  I  recall  how  on 
several  occasions  the  first  team  could  not  gain  as 
much  distance  through  the  second  as  the  men 
desired,  and  Wentz,  who  later  on  distinguished 
himself  on  the  Varsity  at  Princeton  and  still 
later  as  a  crack  player  on  Pennsylvania,  seemed 
to  have  trouble  in  opening  up  my  position. 

Max  Rutter,  the  Lawrenceville  captain,  with 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  7 

the  directness  that  usually  characterizes  such  of- 
ficers, called  this  fact  to  Wentz's  attention. 
Wentz,  who  probably  felt  naturally  his  pride  of 
football  fame,  became  quite  angry  at  Rutter's 
remark  that  he  was  being  outplayed.  He  took 
off  his  nose-guard,  threw  it  on  the  ground  and 
left  the  field. 

Rutter  moved  me  over  to  the  first  team  in 
Wentz's  place.  That  night  there  was  a  general 
upset  on  the  team  which  was  settled  amicably, 
however,  and  the  next  day  Wentz  continued 
playing  in  his  old  place.  The  position  of  guard 
was  given  to  me  on  the  other  side  of  the  line, 
George  Cadwalader  being  moved  out  to  the  posi- 
tion of  tackle.  This  was  the  same  Cadwalader 
who  subsequently  went  to  Yale  and  made  a  great 
name  for  himself  on  the  gridiron,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  he  remained  at  'New  Haven  but  one 
year. 

It  was  here  at  Lawrenceville  that  this  great 
player  made  his  reputation  as  a  goal  kicker,  a 
fame  that  was  enhanced  during  his  football  days 
at  Yale.  Max  Rutter,  the  captain  of  the  Law- 
renceville team,  went  to  Williams  and  played  on 
the  Varsity,  eventually  becoming  captain  there 
also.  Ned  Moffat,  nephew  of  Princeton's  great 
Alex  Moffat,  played  end  rush. 

About  this  time  I  began  to  realize  that  Billy 
McGibbon  had  given  me  a  correct  line  on  Charlie 
de     Saulles    and    Billy    Dibble.     These    two 


8  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

players  worked  wonderfully  well  together,  and 
were  an  effective  scoring  machine  with  the  as- 
sistance of  Doc  MacNider  and  Dave  Davis. 

During  these  days  at  Lawrenceville  Owen 
Johnson  gathered  the  material  for  those  inter- 
esting stories  in  which  he  used  his  old  schoolmates 
for  the  characters.  The  thin  disguise  of  Doc 
Macnooder  does  not,  however,  conceal  Doc  Mac- 
Nider  from  his  old  schoolboy  friends.  The 
same  is  true  of  the  slightly  changed  names  of 
Garry  Cochran,  Turk  Righter,  Charlie  de 
Saulles  and  Billy  Dibble. 

Charlie  de  Saulles,  after  graduation,  went  to 
Yale  and  continued  his  wonderful,  spectacular 
career  on  the  gridiron.  We  will  spend  an  after- 
noon with  him  on  the  Yale  field  later. 

Billy  Dibble  went  to  Williams  and  played  a 
marvelous  game  until  he  was  injured,  early  in  his 
freshman  year.  It  was  during  those  days  that 
I  met  Garry  Cochran,  Sport  Armstrong  and 
other  Princeton  coaches  for  the  first  time.  They 
used  to  come  over  to  assist  in  coaching  our  team. 
Our  regular  coaches  at  Lawrenceville  were  Wal- 
ter B.  Street,  who  had  been  a  famous  football 
star  years  before  at  Williams,  and  William  J. 
George,  renowned  in  Princeton's  football  his- 
tory as  a  center-rush.  I  cannot  praise  the  work 
of  these  men  too  highly.  They  were  thorough- 
breds in  every  sense  of  the  word. 

It  was  one  of  the  old  traditions  of  Lawrence- 
yille  football  to  have  a  game  every  year  with 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  9 

Pennington  Seminary.  Wliat  man  is  there  who 
attended  either  school  who  does  not  recall  the 
spirit  of  those  oldtime  contests? 

The  Hill  School  was  another  of  our  football 
rivals.  The  trip  to  Pottstown,  Pa.,  was  an  event 
eagerly  looked  forward  to — so  also  was  the  Hill 
School's  return  game  at  Lawrenceville.  The 
rivalry  between  the  two  schools  was  keen. 

Everything  possible  was  done  at  the  Hill 
School  to  make  our  visit  a  pleasant  one.  The 
score  of  28  to  0,  by  which  Lawrenceville  won  the 
game  that  year,  made  it  especially  pleasant. 

As  I  recall  that  trip,  two  men  stand  out  in 
my  memory.  One  was  John  Meigs,  the  Head 
Master.  The  other  was  JNIike  Sweeney,  the 
Trainer  and  Athletic  Director.  They  were  the 
two  central  figures  of  Hill  School  traditions. 

Interest  in  football  was  emphasized  at  that 
time  by  the  approaching  game  with  Andover  at 
Lawrenceville.  This  was  the  first  time  that  these 
two  teams  had  ever  plaj^ed.  Andover  was  prob- 
ably more  renowned  in  football  annals  than  any 
school  Lawrenceville  had  played  up  to  this  time. 
The  La^vrenceville  coaches  realized  that  the  game 
would  be  a  strenuous  one.  After  a  conference, 
the  two  coaches  decided  that  it  would  be  wise  to 
see  Andover  f)lay  at  Andover  the  week  before  we 
were  to  play  them.  Accordingly,  ]Mr.  George 
went  to  Andover,  and  when  he  returned,  he 
gathered  the  team  around  him  in  one  of  the  reci- 
tation halls  and  described  carefully  the  offense 


10  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

and  defense  of  our  coming  opponents.  He  also 
demonstrated  with  checkers  what  each  man  did 
in  every  play  and  placed  emphasis  on  the  work 
of  Eddie  Holt,  who  was  acting  captain  of  the 
Andover  team.  To  represent  Holt's  giant  build 
he  placed  one  checker  on  top  of  another,  saying, 
as  I  remember,  with  great  seriousness: 

"This  topped  checker  represents  Holt.  He 
must  be  taken  care  of,  and  it  will  require  two 
Lawrenceville  men  to  stop  him  on  every  play. 
I  am  certain  of  this  for  Holt  was  a  marvel  last 
Saturday." 

During  the  week  we  drilled  secretly  and  most 
earnestly  in  anticipation  of  defeating  Andover. 
The  game  attracted  an  unusually  large  number 
of  spectators.  Lawrenceville  made  it  a  gala  day 
for  its  alumni,  and  all  the  old  Andover  and  Law- 
renceville boys  who  could  get  there  witnessed 
the  game. 

When  the  Andover  team  ran  out  upon  the 
field  we  were  all  anxious  to  see  how  big  Holt 
loomed  up.  He  certainly  was  a  giant  and  tow- 
ered high  above  the  other  members  of  his  team. 
Soon  the  whistle  blew,  and  the  trouble  was  on. 
In  memory  now  I  can  see  Billy  Dibble  circling 
Andover's  end  for  twenty-five  yards,  scoring  a 
touch-down  amid  tremendous  excitement. 

This  all  transpired  during  the  first  minute  and 
a  half  of  play.  Emerson  once  said,  "We  live  by 
moments,"  and  the  first  minute  and  a  half  of  that 
game  must  stand  out  as  one  of  the  eventful 


S        H 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  11 

periods  in  the  life  of  every  man  who  recalls  that 
day  of  play.  No  grown-up  schoolboy  can  fail 
to  appreciate  the  scene  or  miss  the  wave  of  boyish 
enthusiasm  that  rolled  over  the  field  at  this  un- 
looked  for  beginning  of  a  memorable  game  be- 
tween schoolboys. 

This  wonderful  start  of  the  Lawrenceville 
team  was  a  goading  spur  to  its  opponents. 
Johnnie  Barnes,  an  ex-Lawi'enceville  boy,  now 
quarter-back  on  the  Andover  team,  seemed  fairly 
inspired  as  he  urged  his  team  on.  Eddie  Holt 
was  called  upon  time  and  again.  He  was  mak- 
ing strong  advances,  aided  by  French,  Hine  and 
Porter.  Together  they  worked  out  a  touch- 
down. But  Lawrenceville  rallied  and  for  the 
rest  of  the  game  their  teamwork  was  masterly. 
Bat  Geer,  who  was  later  a  Princeton  Varsity 
player,  Charlie  de  Saulles  and  Billy  Dibble, 
each  scored  touch-downs,  making  three  alto- 
gether for  their  school. 

Thus  Lawrenceville,  with  the  score  20  to  6, 
stepped  forth  into  a  new  era  and  entered  the 
larger  football  world  where  she  was  to  remain 
and  increase  her  heroic  accomplislmients  in  after 
years. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  night  following 
this  victory  was  a  crowning  one  in  our  prepara- 
tory football  experiences.  Bonfires  were  lighted, 
speeches  were  the  order  of  the  horn*,  and  members 
of  the  team  were  the  guests  of  honor  at  a  ban- 
quet in  the  Upper  House.     There  was  no  rowdy 


12  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"revelry  by  night"  to  spoil  the  memory  of  the  oc- 
casion. It  was  just  one  simple,  fine  and  fitting 
celebration  of  a  wholesome  school  victory  on  the 
field  of  football. 

LAST  YEAB  AT  LAWRENCEVILLE 

It  was  up  to  Billy  Dibble,  the  new  captain,  to 
bring  about  another  championship.  We  were  to 
play  Andover  a  return  game  there.  Captain 
Dibble  was  left  with  but  three  of  last  year's  team 
as  a  foundation  to  build  on.  Dibble's  team  made 
a  wonderful  record.  He  was  a  splendid  example 
for  the  team  to  follow,  and  his  playing,  his  en- 
thusiasm, and  earnest  efforts  contributed  much 
toward  the  winning  of  the  Andover,  Princeton 
freshmen  and  Hill  School  games.  There  ap- 
peared at  Lawrenceville  a  new  coach  who  as- 
sisted Street  and  George.  He  was  none  other 
than  the  famous  Princeton  half-back,  Douglas 
Ward,  whose  record  as  an  honored  man  in  the 
classroom  as  well  as  on  the  football  field  was 
well  known  to  all  of  us,  and  had  stood  out  among 
college  athletes  as  a  wonderful  example.  He 
was  very  modest.  I  recall  that  some  one  once 
asked  him  how  he  made  the  only  touch-down 
against  Yale  in  the  '93  game.  His  reply  was: 
"Oh,  somebody  just  pushed  me  over." 

Fresh  in  my  memory  is  the  wonderful  trip 
that  we  boys  made  to  Andover.  We  were 
proud  of  the  fact  that  the  Colonial  Express  was 
especially  ordered  to  stop  at  Trenton  for  us,  and 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  13 

as  we  took  our  seats  in  the  Pullman  car,  we 
realized  that  our  long  looked  for  expedition  had 
really  begun. 

We  had  a  great  deal  of  fun  on  the  trip  to 
Boston.  Good  old  George  Cadwalader  was  the 
center  of  most  of  the  jokes.  His  215  pounds 
added  to  the  discomfort  of  a  pair  of  pointed  pat- 
ent leather  shoes,  which  were  far  too  small  for 
him.  As  soon  as  he  was  settled  in  the  train  he 
removed  them  and  dozed  off  to  sleep.  Turk 
Righter  and  some  of  the  other  fun  makers  tied 
the  shoe  strings  together,  and  hung  them  out  of 
the  window  where  they  blew  noisily  against  the 
window  pane. 

When  we  arrived  in  Jersey  City  it  was  a  treat 
for  us  to  see  our  train  put  aboard  the  ferry  boat 
of  the  N.  Y.,  N.  H.  &  H.  R.  R.,  and,  as  we 
sailed  down  the  bay,  up  the  East  River  and  un- 
der the  Brooklyn  Bridge  to  the  New  Haven 
docks,  it  all  seemed  very  big  and  wonderful. 

When  the  train  stopped  at  New  Haven,  we 
were  met  b)^  the  Yale-Lawrenceville  men,  who 
wished  us  the  best  of  luck ;  some  of  them  making 
the  trip  with  us  to  Boston.  When  we  arrived 
in  Andover  the  next  day  I  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  my  brother  and  cousin,  who  were  at 
that  time  attending  Andover  Academy. 

The  hospitality  that  was  accorded  the  Andover 
team,  while  at  Lawrenceville  the  year  before, 
was  repaid  in  royal  fashion.  We  had  ample 
time  to  view  the  grounds  and  buildings  and  grow 


14  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

keen  in  anticipation  and  interest  in  the  after- 
noon's contest. 

When  the  whistle  blew,  we  were  there  for  busi- 
ness. My  personal  opponent  was  a  fellow 
named  Hillebrand,  who  besides  being  a  football 
player  was  Andover's  star  pitcher.  Later  on 
we  became  the  best  of  friends  and  side  partners 
on  the  Princeton  team,  and  often  spoke  of  our 
first  meeting  when  we  played  against  each  other. 
Hillebrand  was  one  of  the  greatest  athletes  An- 
dover  ever  turned  out.  Lawrenceville  defeated 
Andover  in  one  of  the  hardest  and  most  exciting 
of  all  Prep.  School  contests,  one  that  was  un- 
certain from  beginning  to  end. 

Billy  Dibble  played  the  star  game  of  the  day 
and  after  eight  minutes  he  scored  a  touch-down. 
Cadwalader  booted  the  ball  over  the  goal  and 
the  score  was  6  to  0.  The  Lawrenceville  back 
field,  made  up  of  Powell,  Dave  Davis,  Cap 
Kafer  and  Dibble,  worked  wonderfully  well. 
Kafer  did  some  excellent  punting  against  his 
remarkable  opponent  Barker,  who  seemed  to  be 
as  expert  as  he. 

The  efficient  work  of  Hillebrand  and  of  Chad- 
well,  the  colored  end-rush,  stands  out  pre-emi- 
nently. The  latter  player  developed  into  one 
of  the  best  end-rushes  that  ever  played  at  Wil- 
liams. Goodwin,  Barker  and  Greenway  con- 
tributed much  to  Andover's  good  play.  Jim 
Greenway  is  one  of  the  famous  Greenway  boys 
whose  athletic  history  at  Yale  is  a  matter  of 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  15 

record.  A  few  minutes  later  the  Andover  crowd 
were  aroused  by  Goodwin  making  the  longest 
run  of  the  game — fifty-five  yards,  scoring  An- 
dover's  first  touch-down,  and  making  the  score 
6  to  6. 

There  was  great  speculation  as  to  which  team 
would  win  the  game,  but  Billy  Dibble,  aided  by 
the  wonderful  interference  on  the  part  of  Babe 
Eddie,  who  afterward  played  end  on  the  Yale 
team,  and  Emerson,  who,  had  he  gone  to  col- 
lege, would  have  been  a  wonder,  made  a  touch- 
down. George  Cadwalader  with  his  sure  right 
foot  made  the  score  12  to  6.  Enthusiasm  was 
at  its  height.  Andover  rooters  were  calling  upon 
their  team  to  tie  the  score.  A  touch-down  and 
goal  would  mean  a  tie.  The  Andover  team 
seemed  to  answer  their  call,  for  soon  Goodwin 
scored  a  touch-down,  making  the  score  12  to  10, 
and  Butterfield,  Andover's  right  half-back,  was 
put  to  the  test  amidst  great  excitement.  The 
ball  went  just  to  the  side  of  the  goal  post,  and 
Lawrenceville  had  won  12  to  10.  Great  is  the 
thrill  of  a  victory  won  on  an  opponent's  field ! 

That  night  after  dinner,  as  I  was  sitting  in 
my  brother's  room,  with  some  of  his  Andover 
friends,  there  was  a  yell  from  outside,  and  a  loud 
knock  on  the  door.  In  walked  a  big  fellow 
wearing  a  blue  sweater.  Through  his  open  coat 
one  could  observe  the  big  white  letter  "A."  It 
proved  to  be  none  other  than  Doc  Hillebrand. 
Without  one  word  of  comment  he  walked  over 


16  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

to  where  I  was  sitting  and  said:  "Edwards,  what 
was  the  score  of  the  game  to-day?"  I  could  not 
get  the  idea  at  all.  I  said:  "Why,  you  ought  to 
know."  He  replied:  "12  to  10,"  and  turning 
on  his  heel,  left  the  room.  This  caused  a  good 
deal  of  amusement,  but  it  was  soon  explained 
that  Hillebrand  was  being  initiated  into  a  secret 
society  and  that  this  was  one  of  the  initiation 
stunts. 

It  was  a  wonderfully  happy  trip  back  to  Law- 
renceville.  The  spirit  ran  high.  It  was  then 
that  Turk  Righter  wrote  the  well  known  Law- 
renceville  verse  which  we  sang  again  and  again: 

Cap  kicked,  Barker  kicked 
Cap  he  got  the  best  of  it 
They  both  kicked  together 
But  Cap  kicked  very  hard 
Bill  ran,  Dave  ran 
Then  Andover  lost  her  grip 
She  also  lost  her  championship 
Sis,  boom  ah! 

As  we  were  about  two  miles  outside  of  Law- 
renceville,  we  saw  a  mass  of  light  in  the  road- 
way, and  when  we  heard  the  boys  yelling  at  the 
top  of  their  voices,  we  realized  that  the  school 
was  having  a  torch-light  procession  and  coming 
to  welcome  us.  Great  is  that  recollection! 
They  took  the  horses  off  and  dragged  the  stage 
back  to  Lawrenceville  and  in  and  about  the 
campus.     It   was   not   long   before   the   whole 


PREP.  SCHOOL  DAYS  17 

school  was  singing  the  song  of  success  that  Turk 
Righter  had  written. 

A  big  celebration  followed.  We  did  not 
break  training  because  we  had  still  another  game 
to  play.  Wlien  Lawrenceville  had  beaten  the 
Hill  School  20  to  0,  many  of  us  realized  that  we 
had  played  our  last  game  for  Lawrenceville. 
George  Cadwalader  was  shortly  afterward 
elected  Captain  for  the  coming  year.  It  was  at 
this  time  that  Lawrenceville  was  overjoyed  to 
learn  that  Garry  Cochran,  a  sophomore  at 
Princeton,  had  been  elected  captain  of  the 
Princeton  varsity.  This  recalled  former  Law- 
renceville boys,  Pop  Warren  and  Doggie 
Trenchard,  who  had  played  at  Lawrenceville, 
gone  to  Princeton  and  had  become  varsity  cap- 
tains there.  Snake  Ames  also  prepared  at  Law- 
renceville. 

I  might  incidentally  state  that  we  stayed  at 
Lawrenceville  until  June  to  get  our  diplomas, 
realizing  that  there  were  many  able  fellows  to 
continue  the  successful  traditions  of  Lawrence- 
ville football,  George  Mattis,  Howard  Richards, 
Jack  de  Saulles,  Cliff  Bucknam,  John  De  Witt, 
Bummie  Ritter,  Dana  Kafer,  John  Dana,  Char- 
lie Dudley,  Heff  Herring,  Charlie  Raymond, 
Biglow,  the  Waller  brothers  and  others. 


CHAPTER  II 
FRESHMAN  YEAR 

1  BELIEVE  that  every  man  who  has  had  the 
privilege  of  going  to  college  will  agree 
with  me  that  as  a  freshman  lands  in  a  col- 
lege town,  he  is  a  very  happy  and  interested  in- 
dividual. The  newness  of  things  and  his  free- 
dom are  very  attractive.  He  comes  to  college 
fresh  from  his  school  day  experiences  ready  to 
conform  himself  to  the  traditions  and  customs 
of  the  new  school,  his  college  choice. 

The  world  will  never  again  look  quite  so 
big  to  a  boy  as  it  did  then.  Entering  as  boys 
do,  in  the  fall  of  the  year,  the  uppermost  thing 
in  mind,  outside  of  the  classroom,  is  football. 
Sometimes  it  is  the  uppermost  thought  in  the 
classroom.  What  kind  of  a  Varsity  football 
team  are  we  going  to  have  ?  This  is  the  question 
heard  on  all  sides. 

Every  bit  of  available  football  material  is 
eagerly  sought  by  the  coaches.  I  recall  so  well 
my  freshman  year  at  Princeton,  how  Garry 
Cochran,  captain  of  the  football  team,  went  about 
the  college  with  Johnny  Poe,  looking  over  the 
undergraduates  and  watching  the  incoming 
trains    for    football    possibilities.     If    a    fellow 

18 


FRESHMA]^^  YEAR  19 

looked  as  though  he  might  have  good  material 
to  work  upon,  he  was  asked  to  report  at  the  Var- 
sity field  the  next  day. 

All  athletic  interests  are  focused  on  the  grid- 
iron. The  young  undergraduate  who  has  no 
hkelihood  of  making  the  team,  fills  himself  with 
facts  about  the  individuals  who  are  trying  to  win 
a  place.  He  starts  out  to  be  a  loyal  rooter, 
reahzing  that  next  to  being  a  player,  the  natural 
thing  is  to  attend  practice  and  cheer  the  team  in 
their  work;  he  becomes  interested  in  the  individ- 
ual progress  each  candidate  is  making.  In 
this  way,  the  members  of  the  team  know  that 
they  have  the  support  of  the  college,  and  this 
makes  them  play  harder.  This  builds  up  college 
spirit. 

Every  college  has  its  own  freslmian  and  sopho- 
more traditions ;  one  at  Princeton  is,  that  shortly 
after  college  opens  there  must  be  a  rush  about 
the  camion,  between  the  freshman  and  sophomore 
classes.  All  those  who  have  witnessed  this  sight, 
know  that  it  is  a  vital  part  of  Princeton  under- 
graduate life.  On  that  night  in  my  freshman 
year,  great  care  was  taken  by  Cochran  that  none 
of  the  incoming  football  material  engaged  in  the 
rush.  Xo  chances  were  taken  of  injuring  a  good 
football  prospect  among  either  freshmen  or 
sophomores.  Eddie  Holt,  Bert  ^Mieeler,  Ar- 
thur Poe,  Doc  Hillebrand,  Bummie  Booth  and 
I  were  in  the  front  ranks  of  the  class  of  1900, 
stationed  back  of  Witherspoon  Hall  ready  to 


20  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

make  the  rush  upon  the  sophomores,  who  were 
huddled  together  guarding  the  cannon.  Coch- 
ran and  his  coterie  of  coachers  ran  out  as  we  were 
approaching  the  cannon  and  forced  us  out  of  the 
contest.  He  ordered  us  to  stand  on  the  outside 
of  the  surging  crowd.  There  we  were  al- 
lowed to  do  a  little  "close  work,"  but  we 
were  not  permitted  to  get  into  the  heat  of 
the  fray.  Cochran  knew  all  of  us  because  we 
were  among  those  who  had  been  called  to  col- 
lege before  the  opening  to  enter  preliminary 
training.  Every  football  player  who  has  had 
the  experience  of  being  summoned  ahead  of 
time  will  understand  my  feeling.  I  was  very 
happy  when  I  received  from  Cochran,  during  the 
summer  before  I  entered  Princeton,  a  letter  in- 
viting me  to  report  for  football  practice  two 
weeks  before  college  opened.  When  I  arrived 
at  Princeton  on  the  appointed  day,  I  found  the 
candidates  for  the  team  at  the  training  quarters. 

At  that  time  freshmen  were  not  barred  from 
varsity  teams. 

There  was  a  reunion  of  friends  from  Law- 
renceville  and  other  schools.  There  was  Doc 
Hillebrand,  against  whom  I  had  played  in  the 
Andover  game  the  year  before.  Eddie  Holt 
loomed  up  and  I  recalled  him  as  the  big  fellow 
who  played  on  the  Andover  team  against  Law- 
renceville  two  years  before.  He  had  gone  from 
Andover  to  Harvard  and  had,  played  on  the  Har- 


FRESHMAN  YEAR  21 

vard  team  the  year  before,  and  had  decided  to 
leave  Harvard  and  enter  Princeton. 

There  were  Lew  Pahner,  Bummie  Booth, 
Arthur  Poe,  Bert  Wheeler,  Eddie  Burke  and 
many  others  whom  I  grew  to  know  well  later  on. 

Trainer  Jack  McMasters  was  on  the  job  and 
put  us  through  some  very  severe  preliminary 
training.  It  was  warm  in  New  Jersey  early  in 
September,  and  often  in  the  middle  of  practice 
Jack  would  occasionally  play  the  hose  on  us.  It 
did  not  take  us  long  to  learn  that  varsity  foot- 
ball training  was  much  more  strenuous  than  that 
of  the  preparatory  school.  The  vigorous  pro- 
gramme, prepared,  especially  for  me,  convinced 
me  that  McMasters  and  the  coaches  had  decided 
that  my  224  pounds  were  too  much  weight. 
Jack  and  I  used  to  meet  at  the  field  house  four 
mornings  each  week.  He  would  array  me  in 
thick  woolen  things,  and  top  them  off  with  a  cou- 
ple of  sweaters,  so  that  I  felt  as  big  as  a  house. 
He  would  then  take  me  out  for  an  excursion  of 
eight  miles  across  country,  running  and  walking. 
Sometimes  other  candidates  kept  us  company, 
but  only  Jack  and  I  survived. 

On  these  trips,  I  would  lose  anywhere  from 
five  to  six  pounds.  I  got  accustomed  to  this 
jaunt  and  its  discomforts  after  a  while,  but  there 
was  one  thing  that  always  aggravated  me. 
While  Jack  made  me  suffer,  he  indulged  himself. 
He  would  stop  at  a  favorite  spring  of  his,  kneel 


22  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

down  and  take  a  refreshing  drink,  right  before 
my  very  eyes,  and  then,  although  my  throat  was 
parched,  he  would  bar  me  even  from  wetting  my 
tongue.  He  was  decidedly  unsociable,  but  from 
a  training  standpoint,  he  was  entirely  "on  to  his 
job." 

As  both  captain  and  trainer  soon  found  that 
I  was  being  overworked,  I  had  some  "let  up"  of 
this  strenuous  system.  The  extra  work  in  addi- 
tion to  the  regular  afternoon  practice,  made  my 
days  pretty  severe  going  and  when  night  came 
I  was  not  troubled  with  insomnia. 

It  was  during  this  time  that  Biffy  Lea,  one 
of  Princeton's  greatest  tackles,  was  slowly  but 
surely  making  a  wonderful  tackle  out  of  Doc 
Hillebrand.  Bert  Wheeler  was  making  rapid 
strides  to  attain  the  position  of  half-back.  They 
were  the  only  two  freshmen  who  made  the  team 
that  year.     I  was  one  of  those  that  failed. 

We  were  soon  in  shape  for  the  first  tryout  of 
the  season;  preliminary  training  was  over,  and 
the  team  was  ready  for  its  first  game.  We  won 
the  Rutgers  game  44  to  0  and  after  we  defeated 
the  Navy,  we  went  to  play  Lafayette  at  Easton. 
I  had  as  my  opponent  in  the  Lafayette  game, 
Rinehart.  I  shall  never  forget  this  game.  I 
was  playing  left  guard  alongside  of  Jarvie  Geer, 
who  was  a  substitute  for  Bill  Church,  who  had 
been  injured  in  practice  the  week  before  and 
could  not  play.  Just  before  the  first  half  was 
over,  Lafayette  feinted  on  a  kick,  and  instead  of 


FRESHMAN  YEAR  23 

Bray,  that  star  Lafayette  full-back,  boosting  the 
ball,  Barclay  shot  through  the  line  between  Geer 
and  mj^self  for  thirty  yards.  There  was  my 
down-fall.  Rinehart  had  taken  care  of  me  beau- 
tifully, and  finally.  Net  Poe  saved  the  day  by 
making  a  beautiful  tackle  of  Barclaj%  who  was 
fast  approaching  the  Princeton  goal  line.  There 
was  no  score  made,  but  the  fact  that  Barclay 
had  made  the  distance  through  me,  made  me  feel 
mighty  mean.  I  recall  Cochran  during  the  inter- 
mission, when  he  said:  "Holt;  you  take  Ed- 
wards' place  at  left-guard." 

The  battle  between  those  giants  during  the  sec- 
ond half  was  a  sight  worth  seeing  and  an  inci- 
dent recalled  by  all  those  w^ho  witnessed  the 
game. 

Neither  side  scored  and  it  was  a  hard-fought 
struggle. 

One  day,  one  play,  often  ruins  a  man's  chances. 
I  had  played  as  a  regular  in  the  fii-st  three  games 
of  the  season.  I  was  being  tried  out  and  had 
been  found  wanting.  I  had  proved  a  disappoint- 
ment, and  I  knew  Cochran  knew  it  and  I  knew 
the  whole  college  would  know  it,  but  I  made 
up  my  mind  to  give  the  very  best  I  had  in 
me,  and  hoped  to  square  myself  later  and  make 
the  team.  I  knew  what  it  was  to  be  humiliated, 
taken  out  of  a  game,  and  to  realize  that  I  had 
not  stood  the  test.  I  began  to  reason  it  out — 
maybe  I  was  carried  away  with  the  fact  of  hav- 
ing played  on  the  varsity  team — maybe  I  did 


24  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

not  give  my  best.  Anyway  I  learned  much  that 
day.  It  was  my  first  big  lesson  of  failure  in  foot- 
ball. That  failure  and  its  meaning  lived  with 
me. 

I  have  always  had  great  respect  for  Rine- 
hart,  and  his  great  team  mates.  Walbridge  and 
Barclay  were  a  great  team  in  themselves,  backed 
up  by  Bray  at  fullback.  It  was  this  same  team 
that,  later  in  the  fall,  beat  Pennsylvania,  with- 
out the  services  of  Captain  Walbridge,  who  had 
been  injured. 

It  was  not  long  after  this  that  Princeton 
played  Cornell  at  Princeton.  I  recall  the  day  I 
first  saw  Joe  Beacham,  that  popular  son  of  Cor- 
nell, who  afterwards  coached  West  Point.  He 
is  now  in  the  regular  ai'my,  stationed  at  Fort 
Leavenworth,  Kansas.  He  was  captain  of  the 
Cornell  team  in  '96.  He  had  on  his  team  the 
famous  players,  Dan  Reed,  on  whom  Cor- 
nell counts  much  in  these  years  to  assist  Al 
Sharpe  in  the  coaching;  Tom  Fennel,  Taussig 
and  Freeborn.  With  these  stars  assisting,  Cor- 
nell could  do  nothing  with  Princeton's  great 
team  and  the  score  37  to  0  tells  the  tale. 

I  was  not  playing  in  this  game,  but  recall  the 
following  incident.  Joe  Beacham  was  making  a 
flying  run  through  the  Princeton  team.  A  very 
pretty  girl  covered  with  furs,  wearing  the  red  and 
white  of  Cornell,  was  enthusiastically  yelling  at 
the  top  of  her  voice  "Go  it,  Joe !  go  it,  Joe !"  much 
to  the  delight  and  admiration  of  the  Princeton 


FRESHMAN  YEAR  25 

undergi-acluates  near  her.  Since  then  Joe  has 
told  me  that  it  was  his  sister.  JNIaybe  it  was,  but 
as  Joe  was  rushing  onward,  with  Dan  Reed  and 
Tom  Fennel  interfering  wonderfully  for  him,  and 
urged  on  by  his  fond  admirer  in  the  grandstand, 
his  progress  was  rudely  halted  by  the  huge  form 
of  Edwin  Crowdis  which  appeared  like  a  cloud 
on  the  horizon  and  projected  itself  before  the 
oncoming  scoring  machine  of  Cornell.  When 
they  met,  gi'cat  was  the  crash,  for  Crowdis  spilled 
the  player,  ball  and  all.  This  was  the  time,  the 
place,  and  the  girl;  and  it  meant  that  Ed- 
win Crowdis  had  made  the  Princeton  Varsity 
team. 

I  realized  it  at  the  moment,  and  although  I 
knew  that  it  would  probably  put  me  in  the  sub- 
stitute ranks  for  the  rest  of  the  season,  I  was  wild 
with  joy  to  see  Edwin  develop  at  this  particular 
moment,  and  perform  his  great  play.  His  day 
had  come,  his  was  the  reward,  and  Joe  Beacham 
had  been  laid  low.  As  for  the  gu-1,  she  sub- 
sided abruptly,  and  is  said  to  have  remarked,  as 
Crowdis  smashed  the  Cornell  machine:  "Well,  I 
never  did  like  a  fat  man  anyway!" 

One  day  in  a  practice  game,  against  the  scrub, 
this  year,  Garry  Cochran,  who  was  standing  on 
the  side  hues  resting  from  the  result  of  an  in- 
jury, became  so  frantic  over  the  poor  showing  of 
the  varsity,  pulled  off  his  sweater  and  jmnped 
into  the  game  in  spite  of  the  trainers'  earnest 
entreaty  not  to.     He  tried  to  instill  a  new  spirit 


26  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

into  the  game.  It  was  one  of  those  terrible  Mon- 
day practice  games,  of  which  every  football 
player  knows.  The  varsity  could  not  make  any 
substantial  gains  against  the  second  team,  which 
was  unusually  strong  that  year,  as  most  of  the 
varsity  substitutes  were  playing.  How  frantic 
Bill  Church  was!  He  was  playing  tackle  along- 
side of  Edwin  Crowdis,  against  whom  I  was 
playing.  My  chances  of  making  the  Varsity 
were  getting  slimmer.  Very  few  practice  days 
were  left  before  the  men  would  be  selected  for  the 
final  game.  I  was  making  the  last  earnest  stand. 
The  varsity  line  men  were  not  opening  up  the 
scrub  line  as  easily  as  they  desired,  and  we  were 
all  stopping  up  the  offensive  play  of  the  Varsity. 
I  was  going  through  very  low  and  tackhng 
Crowdis  around  the  legs,  trying  to  carry  him  back 
into  the  play.  Church  was  very  angry  at  my 
doing  this,  and  told  Crowdis  to  hit  me,  if  I  did 
it  again,  but  Edwin  was  a  good-natured,  clean 
player;  in  fact,  I  doubt  if  he  ever  rough  played 
any  man.  Finally,  after  several  plays.  Church 
said,  "If  you  don't  hit  him,  I  will,"  and  he  sure 
made  good  his  threat,  for  on  the  next  play,  when 
I  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  heap  in  the  scrimmage. 
Church  handed  me  one  of  those  stiff  "Bill  Church 
blows,"  emphasizing  the  tribute  with  his  leather 
thumb  protector.  There  was  a  lively  mix-up 
and  the  scrub  and  Varsity  had  an  open  fight. 
All  was  soon  forgotten,  but  I  still  "wear  an  ear," 
the  lobe  of  which  is  a  constant  reminder  of  Bill 


FRESHMAN  YEAR  27 

Church's  spirited  play.  Nothing  ever  stood  in 
Church's  way ;  he  was  a  hard  player,  and  a  power- 
ful tackle. 

Slowly  but  surely,  Cochran's  great  team  was 
perfecting  itself  into  a  machine.  The  victory 
against  Harvard  at  Cambridge  was  the  team's 
worthy  reward  for  faithful  service  and  attention 
given  to  the  details  of  the  game. 

As  a  reward  for  service  rendered,  the  second 
team  with  the  Varsity  substitutes  were  taken  on 
the  trip,  and  as  we  saw  the  great  Princeton  team 
winning,  every  man  was  happy  and  proud  of  the 
joy  and  knowledge  of  giving  something  material 
towards  their  winning.  Sore  legs,  injuries  and 
mistakes  were  at  such  a  time  forgotten.  All 
that  was  felt  was  the  keen  sense  of  satisfaction 
that  comes  to  men  who  have  helped  in  the  con- 
struction. 

Billie  Bannard,  aided  by  superb  interference 
of  Fred  Smith,  was  able  to  make  himself  the 
hero  of  that  game  by  a  forty-five  yard  run.  Bill 
Church  the  great  tackle  broke  through  the  Har- 
vard line  and  blocked  Brown's  kick,  and  the  ever- 
watchful  end-rush,  Howard  Brokaw,  fell  on  the 
ball  for  a  touch-down.  Cochran  had  been  in- 
jured and  removed  from  the  game,  but  he  was 
frantic  with  joj^  as  he  walked  up  and  down  the 
Princeton  side  lines,  urging  further  touch-downs. 

A  happy  crowd  of  Princetonians  wended  their 
way  back  to  Princeton  to  put  the  finishing 
touches   on   the   team   before   the   Yale   ffame. 


28  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Those  of  you  who  recall  that  '96  game  in  New 
York  will  remember  that  6  to  0  in  favor  of  Yale 
was  the  score,  at  the  end  of  the  first  five  minutes. 
Jim  Rodgers  had  blocked  Johnnie  Baird's  punt 
and  Bass,  the  alert  end-rush,  had  pounced  on  the 
ball  and  was  over  for  a  touch-down  in  a  mo- 
ment. Great  groans  went  up  from  the  Prince- 
ton grandstand.  Could  it  be  that  this  great  ac- 
knowledged champion  team  of  Princeton  was 
conceited,  over- trained  and  about  to  be  defeated  ? 
Certainly  not,  for  there  arose  such  a  demonstra- 
tion of  team  spirit  and  play  as  one  seldom  sees. 
On  the  next  kick-off  Johnnie  Baird  caught  the 
ball,  and  when  he  was  about  to  be  tackled — in 
fact,  was  lying  on  the  ground — ^he  passed  the 
ball  to  Fred  Smith,  that  great  all-round  Prince- 
ton athlete,  who  made  the  most  spectacular  run 
of  the  day.  Who  will  ever  forget  the  wonderful 
line  plunging  of  Ad  Kelly,  the  brilliant  end  run- 
ning of  Bill  Bannard  and  the  great  part  all  the 
other  men  of  the  team  contributed  towards 
Princeton's  success,  and  the  score  grew  and  grew 
by  touch-down  after  touch-down,  until  some  one 
recalled  that  in  this  game,  the  team  would  say, 
"Well,  we  won't  give  any  signals;  we'll  just  try 
a  play  through  Captain  Murphy."  Maybe  this 
was  the  play  that  put  Murphy  out  of  the  game. 
He  played  against  Bill  Church,  and  that  was 
enough  exercise  for  any  one  man  to  encounter 
in  one  afternoon.  As  Fred  Murphy  left  the  field 
everyone  realized  that  it  was  only  his  poor  phys- 


FRESHMAN  YEAR  29 

ical  condition  that  caused  him  to  give  up  the 
game.  Yale  men  recall,  with  great  pride,  how 
the  year  before  Murphy  had  put  it  all  over  Bill 
Church.  During  that  game,  however,  Church's 
physical  condition  was  not  what  it  should  have 
been,  and  these  two  giant  tackles  never  had  a 
chance  to  play  against  each  other  when  they  were 
both  in  prime  condition.  Both  these  men  were 
All  American  calibre. 

Johnny  Baird,  Ad  Kelly,  Bannard,  all  made 
touch-downs  and  the  two  successful  freshmen 
who  had  made  the  team,  Hillebrand  and  Wheeler, 
both  registered  touch-downs  against  Yale.  As 
the  Yale  team  left  the  field,  they  felt  the  sting 
of  defeat,  but  there  were  men  who  were  to  have 
revenge  at  New  Haven  the  next  year  against 
Princeton,  among  whom  were  Chadwick,  Rodgers 
and  Chamberlain.  They  were  eager  enough  to 
get  back  at  us  and  the  next  year  they  surelj^  did. 
But  this  was  our  year  for  victory  and  celebra- 
tion, and  laurels  were  bestowed  upon  the  victors. 
Garry  Cochran  and  his  loyal  team-mates  were 
the  lions  of  the  day  and  hour. 


I 


CHAPTER  III 

ELBOW  TO  ELBOW 

"■^  WONDER  where  my  shoes  are?'* 
"Who's  got  my  trousers  on?"  "I  won- 
der if  the  tailor  mended  my  jersey?" 
"What  has  become  of  my  head-gear?"  "I  won- 
der if  the  cobbler  has  put  new  cleats  on  my 
shoes?"  "Somebody  must  have  my  stockings  on 
— these  are  too  small."  "What  has  become  of 
my  ankle  brace — can't  seem  to  find  it  anywhere? 
I  just  laid  it  down  here  a  minute  ago.  I  think 
that  freshman  pinched  my  sweater." 

All  of  which  is  directed  to  no  one  in  particular, 
and  the  Trainer,  who  sits  far  off  in  a  corner, 
blowing  up  a  football  for  the  afternoon  practice, 
smiles  as  the  players  are  fishing  for  their  clothes. 
Just  then  the  Captain,  who  has  dressed  earlier 
than  the  rest,  and  has  had  two  or  three  of  the 
players  out  on  the  field  for  kicking  practice, 
breaks  in  upon  the  scene  with  the  remark: 

"Don't  you  fellows  all  know  you're  late?  You 
ought  to  be  dressed  long  before  this."  Then 
follows  the  big  scramble  and  soon  everybody  is 
out  on  the  field. 

The  Trainer  is  busy  keeping  his  eye  open  for 
any  man  who  is  being  handled  too  strenuously 
in    the    practice.     Quick    starts    are    practiced, 

30 


Q 

o 
in 

Q 

>^ 

H 
O 


ELBOW  TO  ELBOW  31 

individual  training  is  indulged  in.  Kicking  and 
receiving  punts  play  an  important  part  in  the 
preliminary  work. 

At  Williams  one  afternoon,  Fred  Daly,  for- 
mer Yale  Captain  and  coach  at  Williams,  in  try- 
ing forward  passes  instructed  his  ends  to  catch 
them  at  every  angle  and  height.  One  man  con- 
tinually fmnbled  his  attempt,  just  as  he  thought 
he  had  it  sure.  He  was  a  new  man  to  Daly, 
and  the  latter  called  out  to  him: 

"What  is  your  name?"  Back  came  the  reply, 
which  almost  broke  up  the  football  practice  for 
the  day:     ^'Ketchum  is  my  name. ^* 

Falling  on  the  ball  is  one  of  the  fundamentals 
in  football.  It  is  the  ground  work  that  every 
player  must  learn.  Frank  Hinkey,  that  great 
Yale  Captain  and  player,  was  an  artist  in  per- 
forming this  fundamental.  Playing  so  wonder- 
fully well  the  end-rush  position,  his  alertness  in 
falling  on  the  ball  often  meant  much  distance 
for  Yale.  He  had  wonderful  judgment  in 
deciding  whether  to  fall  on  the  ball  or  pick  it  up. 

One  of  the  most  important  things  in  football 
is  knowing  how  to  tackle  properly.  Some  men 
take  to  it  naturally  and  others  only  learn  after 
hard,  strenuous  practice. 

In  the  old  days  men  were  taught  to  tackle  by 
what  is  known  as  "live  tackling."  I  recall  es- 
pecially that  earnest  coach,  Johnny  Poe,  whose 
main  object  in  football  coaching  was  to  see  that 
the  men  tackled  hard  and  sure. 


82  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Poe,  without  any  padding  on  at  all,  would  let 
the  men  dive  into  him  running  at  full  speed,  and 
the  men  would  throw  him  in  a  way  that  seemed 
as  though  it  would  maim  him  for  life.  Some 
of  the  men  weighed  a  hundred  pounds  more  than 
he  did,  but  he  would  get  up  and,  with  a  smile, 
say: 

"Come  on  men,  hit  me  harder;  knock  me  out 
next  time." 

After  the  first  two  weeks  of  the  season, 
Johnny  Poe  was  a  complete  mass  of  black  and 
blue  marks;  and  yet  how  wonderful  and  how 
self  sacrificing  he  was  in  his  eagerness  to  make 
the  Princeton  players  good  tacklers. 

But  there  are  few  men  like  Johnny  Poe,  who 
are  willing  to  sacrifice  their  own  bodies  for  the 
instruction  of  others;  and  the  next  best  method, 
and  one  which  does  not  injm-e  the  players  so 
much,  is  tackling  the  "dummy." 

As  we  look  at  this  picture  of  Howard  Henry 
of  Princeton  tackhng  the  "dummy,"  we  all 
remember  when  we  were  back  in  the  game  trying 
our  very  best  to  put  our  shoulder  into  our  op- 
ponent's knees  and  "hit  him  hard,  throw  him, 
and  hold  him."     Henry  always  got  his  man. 

But  the  thrill  of  the  game  is  not  in  tackhng 
the  dummy.  The  joy  comes  in  a  game,  when  a 
man  is  coming  through  the  line,  or  making  a  long 
run,  and  you  throw  yourself  at  his  knees,  and 
get  your  tackle;  then  up  and  ready  for  another. 

I  recall  an  experience  I  had  at  Princeton  one 


ELBOW  TO  ELBOW  38 

year.  When  I  went  to  the  Club  House  to  get 
my  uniform,  which  I  wanted  to  wear  in  coach- 
ing, I  asked  Keene  Fitzpatrick,  the  Trainer, 
where  my  suit  was.     He  said: 

"It's  hanging  outside." 

I  went  outside  of  the  dressing  room  but  could 
see  no  suit  anywhere.  He  came  out  wearing  a 
broad  smile. 

"No,"  he  said,  "it  isn't  out  here,  it's  out  there 
hanging  in  the  air.  We  made  a  dummy  out  of 
it." 

And  there  before  me  I  saw  my  old  uniform 
stuffed  with  sawdust.  I  looked  at  myself — in 
suspense. 

After  the  men  have  been  given  the  other  pre- 
liminary work  they  are  taken  to  the  charging 
board.  The  one  shown  here  is  used  at  Yale.  It 
teaches  the  men  quick  starting  and  the  use  of 
their  hands.  It  trains  them  to  keep  their  eyes 
on  the  ball  and  impresses  them  with  the  fact  that 
if  they  start  before  the  ball  is  put  in  play,  a 
penalty  will  follow.  A  fast  charging  line  has 
its  great  value,  and  every  coach  is  keen  to  have 
the  forwards  move  fast  to  clear  the  way. 

Then  after  the  individual  coaching  is  over,  the 
team  runs  through  signals,  and  the  practice  is 
on.  Before  very  long  the  head  coach  announces 
that  practice  is  over,  and  the  trainer  yells: 

"Everybody  in  on  the  jump,"  and  you  soon 
find  yourself  back  in  the  dressing  room. 

It  does  not  take  you  long  to  get  yom*  clothes 


34,  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

off  and  ready  for  the  bath.  How  well  some  of 
you  will  recall  that  after  a  hard  practice  you 
were  content  to  sit  and  rest  awhile  on  the  bench 
in  the  dressing-room.  It  may  be  that,  in  re- 
moving your  clothes,  you  favored  an  injured 
knee,  looked  at  a  sprained  ankle,  or  helped  some 
fellow  off  with  his  jersey. 

What  is  finer,  after  a  hard  day's  practice,  than 
to  stand  beneath  a  warm  shower  and  gradually 
let  the  water  grow  cold?  Everything  is  lovely 
until  some  rascal  in  the  bunch  throws  a  cold 
sponge  on  you  and  slaps  you  across  the  back, 
or  turns  the  cold  water  on,  when  you  only  want 
hot. 

Then  comes  the  dry-off  and  the  rub-down, 
which  seems  to  soothe  all  your  bruises.  This 
picture  of  Pete  Balliet  standing  on  the  end  of 
a  bench,  while  Jack  McMasters  massages  an 
injured  knee  may  recall  to  many  a  football 
player  the  day  when  the  trainer  was  his  best 
friend.  From  his  wonderful  physique  it  is  easy 
to  believe  that  Balliet  must  have  been  the  great 
center-rush  whom  the  heroes  of  years  ago  tell 
about. 

Harry  Brown,  that  great  Princeton  end-rush, 
is  on  the  other  end  of  the  bench,  being  taken  care 
of  by  Bill  Buss,  a  jovial  old  colored  attendant, 
who  was  for  so  many  years  a  rubber  at  Princeton. 

I  know  men  who  never  enthuse  over  football, 
but  just  play  from  a  sense  of  college  loyalty,  and 
a  fear  of  censure  should  they  not  play;  who  are 


ELBOW  TO  ELBOW  35 

sorry  that  they  were  ever  big  or  showed  any  foot- 
ball ability.  College  sentiment  will  not  allow  a 
football  man  to  remain  idle. 

I  knew  a  man  in  college,  who,  on  his  way  to 
the  football  field,  said: 

*'0h,  how  I  hate  to  drag  my  body  down  to  the 
Varsity  field  to-day  to  have  it  battered  and 
bruised!" 

One  does  not  always  enthuse  over  the  hard 
drudgery  of  practice.  Those  that  witness  only 
the  final  games  of  the  year,  little  realize  the  grue- 
some task  of  preparedness.  Every  football 
player  will  acknowledge  that  some  day  he  has 
had  these  thoughts  himself. 

But  suddenly  the  day  comes  when  this  dis- 
couraged player  sees  a  light.  Perhaps  he  has 
developed  a  hidden  power,  or  it  may  be  that  he 
has  broken  through  and  made  a  clean  tackle 
behind  the  line;  perhaps  he  has  made  a  good 
run  and  received  a  compliment  from  the  coach. 
It  may  be  that  his  side  partner  has  given  him 
a  word  of  encouragement,  which  may  have 
instilled  into  him  a  new  spirit,  and,  as  a  result, 
he  has  turned  out  to  be  a  real  football  player. 
He  then  forgets  all  the  bruises  and  all  the  hard 
knocks. 

How  true  it  is  that  in  one  play,  or  in  a  practice 
game,  or  in  a  contest  against  an  opposing  col- 
lege, a  player  has  found  himself.  Do  you  play- 
ers of  football  remember  the  day  you  made  the 
team,  the  day  yom*  chance  came  and  you  took 


36  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

advantage  of  it?  At  such  a  time  a  player  shows 
great  possibilities.  He  is  told  by  the  captain 
to  report  at  the  training  house  for  the  Varsity 
signals.  Who  that  has  experienced  the  thrill  of 
that  moment  can  ever  forget  it? 

He  earns  his  seat  at  the  Varsity  table.  He  is 
now  on  the  Varsity  squad.  He  goes  on,  deter- 
mined to  play  a  better  game,  and  realizes  he  must 
hold  his  place  at  the  training  table  by  hard, 
conscientious  work. 

One  is  not  unmindful  of  the  traditions  that 
are  centered  about  the  board  where  so  many 
heroes  of  the  past  have  sat.  You  have  a  keen 
realization  of  the  fact  that  you  are  filling  the 
seat  of  men  who  have  gone  before  you,  and  that 
you  must  make  good,  as  they  made  good.  Their 
spirit  lives. 

The  training  table  is  a  great  school  for  team 
spirit.  To  have  a  successful  team,  any  coach 
will  tell  you,  there  must  be  a  brotherly  feeling 
among  the  members  of  the  team.  The  men  must 
chum  together  on  and  off  the  field.  Team  work 
on  the  field  is  made  much  easier  if  there  is  team 
work  off  the  field. 

I  never  hear  the  expression  "team  mates" 
used  but  I  recall  a  certain  Princeton  team,  the 
captain  of  which  was  endowed  with  a  wonder- 
ful power  of  leadership.  There  was  nothing 
the  men  would  not  do  for  him.  Every  man  on 
the  team  regarded  him  as  a  big  brother.  Yet 
there  was  one  man  on  the  squad  who  seemed  iii- 


ELBOW  TO  ELBOW  87 

clined  to  be  alone.  He  had  little  to  say,  and 
when  his  work  was  over  on  the  field  he  always 
went  silently  away  to  his  room.  He  did  not  min- 
gle with  the  other  players  in  the  club  house  after 
dinner,  and  there  did  not  seem  to  be  much  warmth 
in  him. 

Garry  Cochran,  the  captain,  took  some  of  us 
into  his  confidence,  and  we  made  it  our  business  to 
draw  this  fellow  out  of  his  shell.  It  was  not  long 
before  we  found  that  he  was  an  entirely  different 
sort  of  a  person  from  what  he  had  seemed  to  be. 

In  a  short  time,  the  fellow  who  was  uncon- 
sciously retarding  good  fellowship  among  the 
members  of  the  team  was  no  longer  a  silent  nega- 
tive individual,  but  was  soon  urging  us  on  in  a 
get-together  spirit. 

It  will  be  impossible  to  relate  all  the  good 
times  had  at  a  college  training  table.  I  think  that 
every  football  man  will  agree  with  me  that  we 
now  have  a  great  deal  of  sympathy  for  the 
trainer,  whereas  in  the  old  days  we  roasted  him 
when  it  seemed  that  dinner  would  never  be  ready. 

How  the  hungiy  mob  awaited  the  signal! 

"The  flag  is  down,"  as  old  Jim  Robinson 
would  say,  and  Arthur  Poe  would  yell : 

"Fellows,  the  hash  is  ready." 

Then  the  hungry  crowd  would  scramble  in  for 
the  big  event  of  the  day.  There  awaited  them 
all  the  delicacies  of  a  trainer's  menu;  the  food 
that  made  touch-downs.  If  the  serv'ice  was 
slow,  the  good-natured  trainer  was  all  at  fault. 


38  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

and  he  too  joined  in  the  spirit  of  their  criticism. 
If  the  steak  was  especially  tender,  they  would 
say  it  was  tough.  There  was  much  juggling  of 
the  portions  distributed.  Fred  Daly  recalls  the 
first  week  that  he  and  Johnnie  Kilpatrick  were 
at  the  Yale  training  table.  Kil  called  for  some 
chocolate,  and  Johnnie  Mack,  the  trainer,  yelled 
back : 

"What  do  you  think  this  is,  anyway,  a  hos- 
pital?" 

That  started  something  for  awhile  in  the  way 
of  jollying.  Daly  recalls  another  incident, 
that  happened  often  at  Yale  one  year.  It  is 
about  Bill  Goebel,  who  certainly  could  put  the 
food  away.  After  disposing  of  about  twelve 
plates  of  ice  cream,  which  he  had  begged,  bor- 
rowed or  stolen,  he  called  one  of  the  innocent 
waiters  over  to  him  and  asked  in  a  gentle  voice: 
"Say,  George,  what  is  the  dessert  for  to-night?" 

Then  there  comes  the  good-natured  "joshing" 
of  the  fellow  who  has  made  a  fine  play  during  the 
practice,  or  in  the  game  of  the  day.  One  or  two 
of  the  fun  makers  rush  around,  put  their  hands 
on  him  and  hold  him  tight  for  fear  he  will  not 
be  able  to  contain  himself  on  account  of  his  suc- 
cess of  the  day.  This  sort  of  jollification  makes 
the  fellow  who  has  made  a  bad  play  forget  what 
he  might  have  done,  and  he  too  becomes  buoyant 
amidst  the  good  fellowship  about  him. 

We  all  realize  what  a  modest  individual  the 
trainer  is.     If  in  a  reminiscent  mood  to  change 


ELBOW  TO  ELBOW  39 

the  subject  from  football  to  himself,  he  tells  his 
"ever-on-to-him"  admirers  some  of  his  achieve- 
ments in  the  old  days  there  is  immediately  evi- 
dence of  preparedness  among  the  players,  as  the 
following  salute  is  given — with  fists  beating  on 
the  table  in  unison — 

"One,  two,  three !  Oh,  what  a  gosh  darn  lief 
But  deep  in  every  man's  heart,  is  the  keen 
realization  of  the  trainer's  value,  and  his  eager 
effort  for  their  success.  His  athletic  achieve- 
ments and  his  record  are  well  known,  and  appre- 
ciated by  all.     He  is  the  pulse  of  the  team. 

The  scrub  team  at  Princeton  during  my  last 
year  was  captained  by  Pop  Jones,  who  was  a 
martyr  to  the  game.  He  was  thoroughly  reli- 
able, and  the  spirit  he  instilled  into  his  team 
mates  helped  to  make  our  year  a  successful  one. 
This  picture  will  recall  the  long  roll  of  silent 
heroes  in  the  game,  whose  joy  seemed  to  be  in 
giving;  men  who  worked  their  hearts  out  to  see 
the  Varsity  improve ;  men  who  never  got  the  great 
rewards  that  come  to  the  Varsity  players,  but  re- 
ceived only  the  thrill  of  dojng  something  construc- 
tive. Their  reward  is  in  the  victories  of  others,  for 
every  man  knows  that  it  is  a  great  scrub  that 
makes  a  great  varsity.  If,  as  you  gaze  at  this 
picture  of  the  scrub  team,  it  stirs  your  memory 
of  the  fellows  who  used  to  play  against  you,  and, 
if,  in  your  heart  you  pay  them  a  silent  tribute, 
you  will  be  giving  them  only  their  just  due.  To 
the  uncrowned  heroes,  who  found  no  fame,  the 


40  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

men  whose  hearts  were  strong,  but  whose  ambi- 
tions for  a  place  on  the  Varsity  were  never  real- 
ized, we  take  off  our  hats. 

The  fiercest  knocks  that  John  DeWitt's  team 
ever  had  at  Princeton  were  in  practice  against 
the  scrub.  It  was  in  this  year,  on  the  last  day 
of  practice,  that  the  undergi-aduates  marched  in 
a  body  down  the  field,  singing  and  cheering,  led 
by  a  band  of  music.  Preliminary  practice  being 
over,  the  scrub  team  retired  to  the  Varsity  field 
house,  to  await  the  signal  for  the  exhibition  prac- 
tice to  be  given  on  the  Varsity  field  before 
the  undergraduates.  A  surprise  had  been  prom- 
ised. 

'Wliile  the  Varsity  team  was  awaiting  the 
arrival  of  the  scrub  team,  it  was  officially  an- 
nounced that  the  Yale  team  would  soon  arrive 
upon  the  field,  and  shortly  after  this,  the  scrub 
team  appeared  with  white  "Y's"  sewed  on  the 
front  of  their  jerseys.  The  scrub  players  took 
the  Yale  players'  names,  just  as  they  were  to 
play  against  Princeton  on  the  coming  Saturday. 
There  was  much  fun  and  enthusiasm,  when  the 
assumed  Hogan  would  be  asked  to  gain  through 
Cooney,  or  Bloomer  would  make  a  run,  and  the 
make-believe  Foster  Rockwell  would  urge  the 
pseudo  Yale  team  on  to  victory. 

John  DeWitt  had  more  than  one  encounter 
that  afternoon  with  Captain  Rafferty  of  Yale. 
After  the  practice  ended  all  the  players  gathered 
around  the  dummy,  which  had  been  very  helpful 


ELBOW  TO  ELBOW  41 

in  tackling  practice.  This  had  been  saturated 
with  kerosene  awaiting  the  final  event  of  the  day. 
John  DeWitt  touched  it  off  with  a  match,  and 
the  white  "Y"  which  illuminated  the  chest  of  the 
dummy  was  soon  enveloped  in  flames.  A  col- 
lege tradition  had  been  lived  up  to  again,  and 
when  the  team  returned  victorious  from  New 
Haven  that  year,  John  DeWitt  and  his  loyal 
team  mates  never  forgot  those  men  and  the 
events  that  helped  to  make  victory  possible. 


CHAPTER  IV 
MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME 

MANY  a  football  player  who  reads  this 
book  will  admit  that  there  arises  in  all 
of  us  a  keen  desire  to  go  back  into  the 
game.  It  is  not  so  much  a  desire  just  to  play  in 
the  game  for  the  mere  sake  of  playing  as  to 
remedy  the  mistakes  we  all  know  we  made  in  the 
past. 

In  our  football  recollections,  the  defeats  we 
have  experienced  stand  out  the  most  vividly. 
Sometimes  they  hve  on  as  nightmares  through 
the  years.  As  we  review  the  old  days  we  realize 
that  we  did  not  always  give  our  best.  If  we 
could  but  go  back  and  correct  our  faults  many  a 
defeat  might  be  turned  into  a  victory. 

We  reflect  that  if  we  had  trained  a  little 
harder,  if  we  had  been  more  sincere  in  our  work, 
paid  better  attention  to  the  advice  given  us  by 
the  men  who  knew,  if  we  had  mastered  our  posi- 
tions better,  it  would  have  been  a  different  story 
on  many  occasions  when  defeat  was  our  portion. 

But  that  is  now  all  behind  us.  The  games 
are  over.  The  scores  will  always  stand. 
Others  have  taken  our  places.  We  have  had 
our  day  and  opportunity.  In  the  words  of 
Longfellow, 

42 


MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME        43 

"The  world  belongs  to  those  who  come  the  last." 

Our  records  will  remain  as  we  left  them  on  the 
gridiron.  Many  a  man  is  recalled  in  football 
circles  as  the  one  who  lost  his  temper  in  the  big 
games  and  caused  his  team  to  suffer  by  his  being 
ruled  out  of  the  game.  Men  say,  "Why,  that 
is  the  fellow  who  muffed  a  punt  at  a  critical 
moment,"  or  recall  him  as  the  one  who  "fumbled 
the  ball,"  when,  if  he  had  held  it,  the  team  would 
have  been  saved  from  defeat. 

You  recall  the  man  who  gave  the  signals  with 
poor  judgment.  Maybe  you  are  thinking  of  the 
man  who  missed  a  great  tackle  or  allowed  a  man 
to  get  through  the  line  and  block  a  kick.  Per- 
haps a  mistaken  signal  in  the  game  caused  the 
loss  of  a  first  down,  maybe  defeat — who  knows? 

Through  our  recollection  of  the  things  we 
should  have  done  but  failed  to  do  for  one  reason 
or  another,  our  defeats  rise  before  us  more 
vividly  now  than  our  victories. 

There  is  only  one  day  to  make  good  and  that 
is  the  day  of  the  game.     The  next  day  is  too  late. 

Then  there  is  the  ever-present  recollection  of 
the  fellow  who  let  athletics  be  the  big  thing  in 
his  college  hfe.  He  did  not  make  good  in  the 
classroom.  He  was  unfair  to  himself.  He 
failed  to  realize  that  athletics  was  only  a  part  of 
his  college  life,  that  it  should  have  been  an  aid 
to  better  endeavor  in  his  studies. 

He  may  have  earned  his  college  letter  or  re- 
ceived a  championship  gold  football.     And  now 


44  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

that  he  is  out  in  the  world  he  longs  for  the 
college  degree  that  he  has  forfeited. 

His  regrets  are  the  deeper  when  he  realizes 
that  if  he  had  given  his  best  and  been  square 
with  his  college  and  himself,  his  presence  might 
have  meant  further  victories  for  his  team.  This 
is  not  confined  to  any  one  college.  It  is  true  of 
all  of  them  and  probably  always  will  be  true, 
although  it  is  encouraging  to  note  that  there  is 
a  higher  standard  of  scholarship  attained  on  the 
average  by  college  athletes  to-day  than  a  decade 
or  so  ago. 

I  wish  I  could  impress  this  lesson  indelibly 
upon  the  mind  of  every  young  football  enthus- 
iast— that  athletics  should  go  hand  in  hand  with 
college  duties.  After  all  it  is  the  same  spirit  of 
team  work  instilled  into  him  on  the  football  field 
that  should  inspire  him  in  the  classroom,  where 
his  teacher  becomes  virtually  his  coach. 

When  I  was  at  Princeton,  we  beat  Yale  three 
years  out  of  the  four,  but  the  defeat  of  1897  at 
New  Haven  stands  out  most  vividly  of  all  in  my 
memory.  And  it  is  not  so  much  what  Yale  did 
as  what  Princeton  did  not  do  that  haunts  me. 

One  day  in  practice  in  1897,  Sport  Arm- 
strong, conceded  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  guards 
playing,  was  severely  injured  in  a  scrimmage. 
It  was  found  that  his  neck  and  head  had  become 
twisted  and  for  days  he  lay  at  death's  door  on 
his  bed  in  the  Varsity  Club  House.    After  a 


MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME        45 

long  serious  illness  he  got  well,  but  never  strong 
enough  to  play  again.     I  took  his  place. 

Nearly  all  of  the  star  players  of  the  '96 
Princeton  championship  team  were  in  the  line- 
up. It  was  Cochran's  last  year  and  my  first 
year  on  the  Varsity.  Our  team  was  heralded  as 
a  three-to-one  winner.  We  had  beaten  Dart- 
mouth 30  to  0  and  won  a  great  57  to  0  victory 
over  Lafayette.  Yale  had  a  good,  strong  team 
that  had  not  yet  found  itself.  But  there  were 
several  of  us  Princeton  players  who  knew  from 
old  association  in  prep,  school  the  calibre  of  some 
of  the  men  we  were  facing. 

Cochran  and  I  have  often  recalled  together 
that  silent  reunion  with  our  old  team-mates  of 
Lawrenceville.  There  in  front  of  us  on  the 
Yale  team  were  Charlie  de  Saulles,  George 
Cadwalader  and  Charhe  Dudley.  We  had  not 
seen  them  since  we  all  left  prep,  school,  they  to 
go  to  New  Haven  and  we  to  Princeton. 

When  the  teams  lined  up  for  combat  there 
were  no  greetings  of  one  old  schoolmate  to  an- 
other. It  was  not  the  time  nor  place  for  exchange 
of  amenities.  As  some  one  has  since  remarked, 
"The  town  was  full  of  strangers." 

The  fact  that  Dudley  was  wearing  one  Law- 
renceville stocking  only  urged  us  on  to  play 
harder. 

My  opponent  on  the  Yale  team  was  Charlie 
Chadwick,  Yale's  strong  man.     Foster  Sanford 


46  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

tells  elsewhere  in  this  book  how  he  prepared  him 
for  the  Harvard  game  the  week  before  and  for 
this  game  with  Princeton.  Our  coaches  had 
made,  as  they  thought,  a  study  of  Chadwick's 
temperament  and  had  instructed  me  accordingly. 
I  delivered  their  message  in  the  form  of  a  straight 
arm  blow.  The  compliment  was  returned  imme- 
diately by  Chadwick,  and  the  scrap  was  on. 
Dashiell,  the  umpire,  was  upon  us  in  a  moment. 
I  had  visions  of  being  ruled  out  of  the  game  and 
disgraced. 

"You  men  are  playing  like  schoolboys  and 
ought  to  be  ruled  out  of  the  game,"  Dashiell 
exclaimed,  but  he  decided  to  give  us  another 
chance. 

Chadwick  played  like  a  demon  and  I  realized 
before  the  game  had  progressed  very  far  that  I 
had  been  coached  wrong,  for  instead  of  weaken- 
ing his  courage  my  attack  seemed  to  nerve  him. 
He  played  a  very  wide,  defensive  guard  and  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  gain  through  him. 

The  play  of  the  Princeton  team  at  the  outset 
was  disappointing.  Jim  Rodgers,  the  Yale  cap- 
tain, was  driving  his  men  hard  and  they 
responded  heartily.  Some  of  them  stood  out 
conspicuously  by  their  playing.  De  Saulles' 
open  field  work  was  remarkable.  I  remember 
well  the  great  run  of  fifty-five  yards  which  he 
made.  He  was  a  wonderfully  clever  dodger  and 
used  the  stiff  arm  well.     He  evaded  the  Prince- 


MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME        47 

ton  tacklers  successfully,  until  Billy  Bannard 
made  a  tackle  on  Princeton's  25-yard  line. 

Garry  Cochran  was  one  of  the  Princeton  play- 
ers who  failed  in  his  effort  to  tackle  de  Saulles, 
although  it  was  a  remarkable  attempt  with  a  low, 
diving  tackle.  De  Saulles  hurdled  over  him  and 
Cochran  struck  the  ground,  breaking  his  right 
shoulder. 

That  Cochran  was  so  seriously  injured  did  not 
become  known  until  after  de  Saulles  had  fin- 
ished his  long  run.  Then  it  was  seen  that 
Cochran  was  badly  hurt.  The  trainer  ran  out 
and  took  him  to  the  side  lines  to  fix  up  his  injury. 

Time  was  being  taken  out  and  as  we  waited 
for  Cochran  to  return  to  the  game  we  discussed 
the  situation  and  hoped  that  his  injury  would 
not  prove  serious.  Every  one  of  us  realized  the 
tremendous  handicap  we  would  be  under  with- 
out him. 

The  tension  showed  in  the  faces  of  Alex 
Moffat  and  Johnny  Poe  as  they  sat  there  on  the 
side  hne,  trying  to  reach  a  solution  of  the  prob- 
lem that  confronted  them  as  coaches.  They 
realized  better  than  the  players  that  the  tide  was 
against  them. 

To  conceal  the  true  location  of  his  injury  from 
the  Yale  players,  Cochran  had  his  left  shoulder 
bandaged  and  entered  the  scrimmage  again, 
game  though  handicapped,  remaining  on  the 
field  until  the  trainer  finally  dragged  him  to  the 
side  Hne. 


48  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

This  was  the  last  football  contest  in  which 
Garry  Cochran  took  part.  He  was  game  to  the 
end. 

At  New  Haven  that  fall  Frank  Butterworth 
and  some  of  the  other  coaches  had  heard  a  rumor 
that  when  Cochran  and  de  SauUes  parted  at 
Lawrenceville  they  had  a  strange  understand- 
ing. Both  had  agreed,  so  the  rumor  went,  that 
should  they  ever  meet  in  a  Yale-Princeton  game, 
one  would  have  to  leave  the  game. 

Butterworth  told  de  Saulles  what  he  had 
heard  and  cautioned  him,  reminding  him  that  he 
wanted  him  to  play  a  game  that  would  escape 
criticism.  De  Saulles  put  every  ounce  of  him- 
self into  his  game,  Cochran  did  the  same.  To 
this  day  Frank  Butterworth  and  the  coaches 
believe  that  when  de  Saulles  was  making  his 
great  run  up  the  field  he  kept  his  pledge  to 
Cochran. 

De  Saulles  and  Cochran  laugh  at  the  sugges- 
tion that  it  was  other  than  an  accident,  but  they 
have  never  been  able  to  convince  their  friends. 
The  dramatic  element  in  it  was  too  strong  for  a 
mere  chance  affair. 

Princeton's  handicap  when  Cochran  had  to 
go  out  was  increased  by  the  withdrawal  because 
of  injuries  of  Johnny  Baird,  the  quarterback, 
that  wonderful  drop-kicker  of  previous  games. 
He  was  out  of  condition  and  had  to  be  carried 
from  the  field  with  a  serious  injury. 

Dudley,  the  ex-Lawrencevillian,  here  began  to 


MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME        49 

get  in  his  telling  work.  The  Yale  stands  were 
wild  with  enthusiasm  as  they  saw  their  teata 
about  to  score  against  the  much-heralded  Prince- 
ton team.  We  were  a  three  to  one  bet.  On  the 
next  play  Dudley  went  through  the  Princeton 
line.  At  the  bottom  of  the  heap,  hugging  the 
ball  and  happy  in  his  success,  was  Charlie  Dud- 
ley, Yale  hero,  Lawrenceville  stocking  and  all. 

After  George  Cadwalader  had  kicked  the 
goal,  the  score  stood  6  to  0. 

One  of  the  greatest  problems  that  confronts  a 
coach  is  to  select  the  proper  men  to  start  in  a 
game.  Injuries  often  handicap  a  team.  Ad 
Kelly,  king  of  all  line-plunging  halfbacks,  had 
been  injured  the  week  before  at  Princeton  and 
for  that  reason  was  not  in  the  original  line-up 
that  day  at  New  Haven.  He  was  on  the  side 
lines  waiting  for  a  chance  to  go  in.  His  chance 
came. 

Kelly  was  Princeton's  only  hope.  Herbert 
Reed,  known  among  writers  on  football  as 
"Right  Wing,"  thus  describes  this  stage  of  the 
game: 

"With  almost  certain  defeat  staring  them  in 
the  face,  the  Tigers  made  one  last  desperate  rally 
and  in  doing  so  called  repeatedly  on  Kelly,  with 
the  result  that  with  this  star  carrying  the  ball 
in  nearly  every  rush  the  Princeton  eleven  carried 
the  ball  fifty-five  yards  up  the  field  only  to  lose 
it  at  last  on  a  fumble  to  Jim  Rodgers. 

"Time  and  again  in  the  course  of  this  heroic 


50  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

advance,  Kelly  went  into  or  slid  outside  of  tackle 
practically  unaided,  bowling  along  more  like  a 
huge  ball  than  a  human  being.  It  was  one  of 
the  greatest  exhibitions  of  a  born  runner,  of  a 
football  genius  and  much  more  to  be  lauded  than 
his  work  the  previous  year,  when  he  was  aided 
by  one  of  the  greatest  football  machines  ever 
sent  into  a  big  game." 

But  Kelly's  brilliant  work  was  unavailing  and 
when  the  game  ended  the  score  was  still  6  to  0. 
Yale  had  won  an  unexpected  victory. 

The  Yale  supporters  descended  like  an  ava- 
lanche upon  the  field  and  carried  off  their  team. 
Groups  of  men  paraded  about  carrying  aloft  the 
victors.  There  were  Captain  Jim  Rodgers, 
Charlie  Chadwick,  George  Cadwalader,  Gordon 
Brown,  Burr  Chamberlain,  John  Hall,  Charlie 
de  Saulles,  Dudley,  Benjamin,  McBride,  and 
Hazen. 

Many  were  the  injuries  in  this  game.  It  was 
a  hard  fought  contest.  There  were  interesting 
encounters  which  were  known  only  to  the  players 
themselves.  As  for  myself,  it  may  best  be  said 
that  I  spent  three  weeks  in  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania  Hospital  with  water  on  the  knee. 
I  certainly  had  plenty  of  time  to  think  about  the 
sadness  of  defeat — the  ever  present  thought — 
"Wait  until  next  year" — was  in  my  mind. 
Garry  Cochran  used  to  say  in  his  talks  to  the 
team:     "We  must  win  this  year — make  it  two 


MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME        51 

years  straight  against  Yale.  If  you  lose,  Prince- 
ton will  be  a  dreary  old  place  for  you.  It  will  be 
a  long,  hard  winter.  The  frost  on  the  window 
pane  will  be  an  inch  thick."  And,  in  the  sad- 
ness of  our  recollections,  his  words  came  back  to 
us  and  to  him. 

These  words  came  back  to  me  again  in  1899. 

I  had  looked  forward  all  the  year  to  our  play- 
ing Cornell  at  Ithaca.  It  was  just  the  game  we 
wanted  on  our  schedule  to  give  us  the  test  before 
we  met  Yale.  We  surely  got  a  test,  and  Cornell 
men  to  this  day  will  tell  you  of  their  great  vic- 
tory in  1899  over  Princeton,  5  to  0. 

There  were  many  friends  of  mine  in  Ithaca, 
which  was  only  thirty  miles  from  my  old  home, 
and  I  was  naturally  happy  over  the  fact  that 
Princeton  was  going  to  play  there.  But  the 
loyal  supporters  who  had  expected  a  Princeton 
victory  were  as  disappointed  as  I  was.  Bill 
Robinson,  manager  of  the  Princeton  team,  re- 
served seats  for  about  thirty  of  my  closest  boy- 
hood friends  who  came  over  from  Lisle  to  see 
the  game.  The  Princeton  cheering  section  was 
rivalled  in  enthusiasm  by  the  "Lisle  section." 
And  the  disappointment  of  each  one  of  my 
friends  at  the  outcome  of  that  memorable  game 
was  as  keen  as  that  of  any  man  from  Princeton. 

Our  team  was  clearly  outplayed.  Unfor- 
tunately we  had  changed  our  signals  that  week 
and  we  did  not  play  together.     But  all  the  hon- 


52  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ors  were  Cornell's,  her  sure  footed  George  Young 
in  the  second  half  made  a  goal  from  the  field, 
fixing  the  score  at  5  to  0. 

I  remember  the  wonderful  spirit  of  victory 
that  came  over  the  Cornell  team,  the  brilliant 
playing  of  Starbuck,  the  Cornell  captain,  and  of 
Bill  Warner,  Walbridge,  Young  and  the  other 
men  who  contributed  to  the  Cornell  victory. 
Percy  Field  swarmed  with  Cornell  students  when 
the  game  ended,  each  one  of  them  crazy  to  reach 
the  members  of  their  team  and  help  to  carry 
them  victoriously  off  the  field. 

Never  will  I  forget  the  humiliation  of  the 
Princeton  team.  Trolley  cars  never  seemed  to 
move  as  slowly  as  those  cars  that  carried  us  that 
day  through  the  streets  of  Ithaca.  Enthusias- 
tic, yelling  undergraduates  grinned  at  us  from 
the  sidewalks  as  we  crawled  along  to  the  hotel. 
Sadness  reigned  supreme  in  our  company.  We 
were  glad  to  get  to  our  rooms. 

Instead  of  leaving  Ithaca  at  9:30  as  we  had 
planned,  we  hired  a  special  engine  to  take  our 
private  cars  to  Owego  there  to  await  the  express 
for  New  York  on  the  main  line. 

My  only  pleasant  recollection  of  that  trip  was 
a  brief  call  I  made  at  the  home  of  a  girl  friend 
of  mine,  who  had  attended  the  game.  My  arm 
was  in  a  sling  and  sympathy  was  welcome. 

As  our  train  rolled  over  the  zig-zag  road  out 
of  Ithaca,  we  had  a  source  of  consolation  in  the 
fact  that  we  had  evaded  the  send-off  which  the 


MISTAKES  IN  THE  GAME        53 

Cornell  men  had  planned  in  the  expectation  that 
we  were  to  leave  on  the  later  train. 

There  were  no  outstretched  hands  at  Prince- 
ton for  our  homecoming.  But  every  man  on 
that  Princeton  team  was  grimly  determined  to 
learn  the  lesson  of  the  Cornell  defeat,  to  correct 
faults  and  leave  nothing  undone  that  would  in- 
sure victory  for  Princeton  in  the  coming  game 
with  Yale. 


CHAPTER  V 
MY  LAST  GAME 

EVERY  player  knows  the  anxious  antici- 
pation and  the  nerve  strain  connected 
with  the  last  game  of  the  football  season. 
In  my  last  year  there  were  many  men  on  the 
team  who  were  to  say  good-bye  to  their  play- 
ing days.  Every  player  who  reads  these  lines 
will  agree  with  me  that  it  was  his  keenest  ambi- 
tion to  make  his  last  game  his  best  game. 

It  was  in  the  fall  of  1899.  There  were  many 
of  us  who  had  played  on  a  victorious  team  the 
year  before.  Princeton  had  never  beaten  Yale 
two  years  in  succession.  This  was  our  oppor- 
tunity. Our  slogan  during  the  entire  season  had 
been,  "On  to  New  Haven."  The  dominating 
idea  in  the  mind  of  everyone  was  to  add  another 
victory  over  Yale  to  the  one  of  the  year  before. 

The  Cornell  game  with  its  defeat  was  forgot- 
ten. We  had  learned  our  lesson.  We  had  made 
a  tremendous  advance  in  two  weeks.  I  recall  so 
well  the  days  before  the  Yale  game,  when  we 
were  leaving  for  New  York  en  route  to  New 
Haven.  We  met  at  the  Varsity  field  house.  I 
will  never  forget  how  strange  the  boys  looked  in 
their  derby  hats  and  overcoats.     It  was  a  strik- 

54 


s  - 

P    TS 


y. 


MY  LAST  GAME  55 

ing  contrast  to  the  regular  every-day  football 
costumes  and  campus  clothes. 

There  were  hundreds  of  undergraduates  at  the 
station  to  cheer  us  off.  As  the  train  pulled  out 
the  familiar  strains  of  "Old  Nassau"  floated 
after  us  and  we  realized  that  the  next  time  we 
would  see  that  loyal  crowd  would  be  in  the  cheer- 
ing section  on  the  Princeton  side  at  New  Haven. 

We  went  directly  to  the  Murray  Hill  Hotel, 
where  Princeton  had  held  its  headquarters  for 
years.  After  luncheon  Walter  Christie,  the 
trainer,  took  us  up  to  Central  Park.  We  walked 
about  for  a  time  and  finally  reached  the  Obehsk. 

Biff^y  Lee,  the  head  coach,  suggested  that  we 
run  through  our  signals.  All  of  us  doffed  our 
overcoats  and  hats  and,  there  on  the  expansive 
lawn,  flanked  by  Cleopatra's  Needle  and  the 
Metropohtan  Art  IMuseum,  we  ran  through  our 
signals. 

We  then  resumed  our  walk  and  returned  to 
the  hotel  for  dinner.  The  evening  was  spent  in 
the  hotel  parlors,  where  the  team  was  entertained 
and  had  opportunity  for  relaxation  from  the 
mental  strain  that  was  necessarily  a  part  of  the 
situation.  A  general  reception  took  place  in  the 
corridors,  players  of  old  days  came  around  to  see 
the  team,  to  revive  old  memories,  and  clieer  the 
men  of  the  team  on  to  victor^^ 

Football  writers  from  the  daily  papers  mingled 
with  the  throng,  and  their  accounts  the  following 
day  reflected  the  optimistic  spirit  they  encoun- 


56  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

tered.  The  betting  odds  were  quoted  at  three 
to  one  on  Princeton.  "Betting  odds"  is  the  way 
some  people  gauge  the  outcome  of  a  football 
contest,  but  I  have  learned  from  experience,  that 
big  odds  are  not  justified  on  either  side  in  a  cham- 
pionship game. 

We  were  up  bright  and  early  in  the  morning 
and  out  for  a  walk  before  breakfast.  Our  team 
then  took  the  ten  o'clock  train  for  New  Haven. 
Only  those  who  have  been  through  the  experience 
can  appreciate  the  difficulty  encountered  in  get- 
ting on  board  a  train  for  New  Haven  on  the  day 
of  a  football  game. 

We  were  ushered  through  a  side  entrance,  how- 
ever, and  were  finally  landed  in  the  special  cars 
provided  for  us. 

On  the  journey  there  was  a  jolly  good  time. 
Good  fellowship  reigned  supreme.  That  re- 
heved  the  nervous  tension.  Arthur  Poe  and  Bo- 
sey  Reiter  were  the  leading  spirits  in  the  jollifica- 
tion. A  happier  crowd  never  entered  New  Ha- 
ven than  the  Princeton  team  that  day.  The  cars 
pulled  in  on  a  siding  near  the  station  and  every- 
body realized  that  we  were  at  last  in  the  town 
where  the  coveted  prize  was.  We  were  after  the 
Yale  ball.  "On  to  New  Haven"  had  been  our 
watchword.     We  were  there. 

Following  a  light  lunch  in  our  dining  car  we 
soon  got  our  football  clothes,  and,  in  a  short  time, 
the  palatial  Pullman  car  was  transformed.  It 
assumed  the  appearance  of  the  dressing  room  at 


MY  LAST  GAME  57 

Princeton.  Football  togs  hung  everywhere. 
Nose-guards,  head-gears,  stockings,  shin-guards, 
jerseys,  and  other  gridiron  equipment  were 
everywhere.  Here  and  there  the  trainer  or  his 
assistants  were  limbering  up  joints  that  needed 
attention. 

Two  big  buses  waited  at  the  car  platform. 
The  team  piled  into  them.  We  were  off  to  the 
field.  The  trip  was  made  through  a  welcome  of 
friendly  salutes  from  Princeton  men  encountered 
on  the  way.  Personal  friends  of  individual  play- 
ers called  to  them  from  the  sidewalks.  Others 
shouted  words  of  confidence.  Old  Nassau  was 
out  in  overwhelming  force. 

No  team  ever  received  more  loyal  support.  It 
keyed  the  players  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of  de- 
termination. Their  spirits,  naturally  at  a  high 
mark,  rose  still  higher  under  the  warmth  of  the 
welcome.  Repression  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 
Every  player  was  jubilant  and  did  not  attempt 
to  conceal  the  fact. 

The  enthusiasm  mounted  as  we  neared  the 
scene  of  the  coming  battle.  As  we  entered  the 
field  the  air  was  rent  by  a  mighty  shout  of  wel- 
come from  the  Princeton  hosts.  Our  hearts  pal- 
pitated in  response  to  it.  There  was  not  a  man 
of  the  team  that  did  not  feel  himself  repaid  a 
thousand-fold  for  the  season's  hard  knocks. 

But  this  soon  gave  way  to  sober  thought  of  the 
work  ahead  of  us.  We  were  there  for  business. 
Falling  on  the  ball,  sprinting  and  limbering  up, 


58  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

and  running  through  a  few  signals,  we  spent  the 
few  minutes  before  the  Yale  team  came  through 
the  corner  of  the  field.  The  scenes  of  enthusiasm 
that  had  marked  our  arrival  were  repeated,  the 
Yale  stand  being  the  center  this  time  of  the  mael- 
strom of  cheers.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe 
our  own  feelings  as  we  got  the  first  glimpse  of 
our  opponents  in  the  coming  fray.  Who  can 
describe  the  sensations  of  the  contestants  in  the 
first  moment  of  a  championship  game? 

But  it  was  not  long  before  the  coin  had  been 
tossed,  and  the  game  was  on.  Not  a  man  who 
has  played  in  the  line  will  ever  forget  how  he 
tried  to  block  his  man  or  get  down  the  field  and 
tackle  the  man  with  the  ball.  I  recall  most 
vividly  those  three  strapping  Yale  center  men, 
Brown,  Hale  and  Olcott,  flanked  by  Stillman 
and  Francis.  There  was  Al  Sharpe  and  Mc- 
Bride.     Fincke  was  at  quarter. 

If  there  had  been  any  one  play  during  the  sea- 
son that  we  had  had  drilled  into  us,  a  play  which 
we  had  hoped  might  win  the  game,  it  was  the 
long  end  run.     It  was  Lea's  pet  play. 

I  can  recall  the  herculean  work  we  had  per- 
formed to  perfect  this  play.  It  was  time  well 
spent.  The  reward  came  within  seven  minutes 
after  the  game  began.  The  end  running  ability 
of  that  great  player,  Bosey  Reiter  showed. 
Every  man  was  doing  his  part,  and  the  play  was 
made  possible.  Reiter  scored  a  touchdown  along 
the  side  of  the  field.     I  never  saw  a  happier  man 


MY  LAST  GAME  59 

than  Bose5^  But  he  was  no  happier  than  his 
ten  team-mates.  They  were  leaping  in  the  air 
with  joy.  The  Princeton  stand  arose  in  a  solid 
body  and  sent  an  avalanche  of  cheers  across  the 
field. 

What  proved  to  be  one  of  the  most  important 
features  of  the  game  was  the  well-delivered  punt 
by  Bert  Wheeler,  who  kicked  the  ball  out  to 
Hutchinson.  Hutch  heeled  it  in  front  of  the 
goal  and  Bert  Wheeler  boosted  the  ball  straight 
over  the  cross  bar  and  Princeton  scored  an  addi- 
tional point.  At  that  moment  we  did  not  realize 
that  this  would  be  the  decisive  factor  in  the 
Princeton  victory. 

As  the  Princeton  team  went  back  to  the  middle 
of  the  field  to  take  their  places  for  the  next  kick- 
off,  the  Princeton  side  of  the  field  was  a  perfect 
bedlam  of  enthusiasm.  Old  grads  were  hugging 
each  other  on  the  side  lines,  and  every  eye  was 
strained  for  the  next  move  in  the  game. 

At  the  same  time  the  Yale  stand  was  cheering 
its  side  and  urging  the  Blue  players  to  rally. 
JNIcBride,  the  Yale  captain,  was  rousing  his  men 
with  the  Yale  spirit,  and  they  realized  what  was 
demanded  of  them.  The  effect  became  evident. 
It  showed  how  Yale  could  rise  to  an  occasion. 
We  felt  that  the  old  bull-dog  spirit  of  Yale  was 
after  us — as  strong  as  ever. 

How  wonderfully  well  JNIcBride,  the  Yale  cap- 
tain, kicked  that  day!  What  a  power  he  was 
on  defence !     I  saw  him  do  some  wonderful  work. 


60  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

It  was  after  one  of  his  long  punts,  which,  with 
the  wind  in  his  favor,  went  about  seventy  yards, 
that  Princeton  caught  the  ball  on  the  ten-yard 
line. 

Wheeler  dropped  back  to  kick.  The  Yale  line 
men  were  on  their  toes  ready  to  break  through 
and  block  the  kick.  The  Yale  stand  was  cheer- 
ing them  on.  Stillman  was  the  first  man 
through.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  off-side. 
Wheeler  delayed  his  kick,  expecting  that  an  off- 
side penalty  would  be  given.  When  he  did  kick, 
it  was  too  late,  the  ball  was  blocked  and  McBride 
fell  on  it  behind  the  goal  line,  scoring  a  touch- 
down for  Yale,  and  making  the  score  6  to  5  in 
favor  of  Princeton. 

Believe  me,  the  Yale  spirit  was  running  high. 
The  men  were  playing  like  demons.  Here  was 
a  team  that  was  considered  a  defeated  team  be- 
fore the  game.  Here  were  eleven  men  who  had 
risen  to  the  occasion  and  who  were  slowly,  but 
surely,  getting  the  best  of  the  argument. 

Gloom  hung  heavy  over  the  Princeton  stand. 
Defeat  seemed  inevitable.  Of  eleven  players 
who  started  in  the  game  on  the  Princeton  side, 
eight  had  been  incapacitated  by  injuries  of  one 
kind  or  another.  Doc  Hillebrand,  the  ever- 
reliable,  all- American  tackle,  had  been  compelled 
to  leave  the  game  with  a  broken  collar-bone  just 
before  McBride  made  his  touchdown. 

I  remember  well  the  play  in  which  he  was 


^^^^^^^^^r                      ''^^^^^^^^H'V^^^^^^H 

P^ 

1^ 

''■'^mI 

JK^^^Sp 

1l 

'                                                                           " 

1 

j^*t 

1 
1 

MY  LAST  GAME  61 

injured  and  I  have  resurrected  a  photograph 
that  was  snapped  of  the  game  at  the  moment  that 
he  was  lying  on  the  ground,  knocked  out. 

Bunmiie  Booth,  who  had  stood  the  strain  of 
the  contest  wonderfully  well,  and  had  played  a 
grand  game  against  Hale,  gave  way  to  Horace 
Bannard,  brother  of  Bill  Bannard,  the  famous 
Princeton  half-back  of  '98. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  Princeton  was  downcast 
when  McBride  scored  the  touchdown  and  the 
goal  was  about  to  be  kicked. 

Just  then  I  saw  a  man  in  football  togs  come 
out  from  the  side  lines  wearing  a  blue  visor  cap. 
He  was  to  kick  for  the  goal.  It  was  an  unusual 
spectacle  on  a  football  field.  I  rushed  up  to  the 
referee,  Ed  Wrightington  of  Harvard,  and 
caUed  his  attention  to  the  man  with  the  cap.  I 
asked  if  that  man  was  in  the  game. 

"'VMiy,"  he  replied  with  a  broad  smile,  "you 
ought  to  know  hitn.  He  is  the  man  you  have 
been  playing  against  all  along,  Gordon  Brown. 
He  only  ran  into  the  side  hues  to  £et  a  cap  to 
shade  his  eyes." 

I  am  frank  to  say  that  it  was  one  on  me,  but 
the  chagrin  wore  off  when  Brown  missed  the 
goal,  which  would  have  tied  the  final  score,  and 
robbed  Princeton  of  the  ultimate  victory. 

The  tide  of  battle  turned  toward  Yale.  Al 
Sharpe  kicked  a  goal  from  the  field,  from  the 
f ortv-five  vard  line.     It  was  a  wonderful  achieve- 


62  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ment.  It  is  true  that  circumstances  later  substi- 
tuted Arthur  Poe  for  him  as  the  hero  of  the 
game,  but  those  who  witnessed  Sharpe's  per- 
formance will  never  forget  it.  The  laurels  that 
he  won  by  it  were  snatched  from  him  by  Poe  only 
in  the  last  half-minute  of  play.  The  score  was 
changed  by  Sharpe's  goal  from  6  to  5  in  our  favor 
to  10  to  6.     Yale  leading. 

The  half  was  over.  The  score  was  10  to  6 
against  Princeton.  Every  Princeton  player 
felt  that  there  was  still  a  real  opportunity  to  win 
out.  We  were  all  optimistic.  This  optimism 
was  increased  by  the  appeals  made  to  the  men  in 
the  dressing  room  by  the  coaches.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  team  was  back  on  the  field  more 
determined  than  ever  to  carry  the  Yale  ball  back 
to  Princeton. 

The  last  half  of  this  game  is  everlastingly  im- 
pressed upon  my  memory.  Every  man  that 
played  for  Princeton,  although  eight  of  them 
were  substitutes,  played  like  a  veteran.  I  shall 
ever  treasure  the  memory  of  the  loyal  support 
that  those  men  gave  me  as  captain,  and  their  re- 
sponse to  my  appeal  to  stand  together  and  play 
not  only  for  Princeton  but  for  the  injured  men 
on  the  side-lines  whose  places  they  had  taken. 

The  Yale  team  had  also  heard  some  words  of 
football  wisdom  in  their  dressing  room.  Pre- 
vious encounters  with  Princeton  had  taught  them 
that  the  Tiger  could  also  rally.  They  came  on 
the  field  prepared  to  fight  harder  than  ever. 


MY  LAST  GAME  63 

McBride  and  Brown  were  exhorting  their  men  to 
do  their  utmost. 

Princeton  was  out-rushing  Yale  hut  not  out- 
kicking  them.     Yale  knew  that  as  well  as  we  did. 

It  was  a  Yale  fumble  that  gave  us  the  chance 
we  were  waiting  for.  Bill  Roper,  who  had  taken 
Lew  Palmer's  place  at  left  end,  had  his  eyes  open. 
He  fell  on  the  ball.  Through  his  vigilance, 
Princeton  got  the  chance  to  score.  Now  was  our 
chance. 

Time  was  passing  quickly.  We  all  knew  that 
something  extraordinary  would  have  to  be  done 
to  win  the  day.  It  remained  for  Arthur  Poe  to 
crystallize  this  idea  into  action.  It  seemed  an 
inspiration. 

"We've  got  to  kick,"  he  said  to  me,  "and  I 
would  like  to  try  a  goal  from  the  field.  We 
haven't  got  much  time." 

Nobody  appreciated  the  situation  more  than  I 
did.  I  knew  we  would  have  to  take  a  chance  and 
there  was  no  one  I  would  have  selected  for  the 
job  quicker  than  Arthur  Poe.  How  we  needed 
a  touchdown  or  a  goal  from  the  field! 

Poe,  Pell  and  myself  were  the  three  members 
of  the  original  team  left.  How  the  substitutes 
ralhed  with  us  and  gave  the  perfect  defence  that 
made  Poe's  feat  possible  is  a  matter  of  history. 
As  I  looked  around  from  my  position  to  see  that 
the  defensive  formation  was  riglit,  I  recall  how 
small  Arthur  Poe  looked  there  in  the  fullback 
position.     Here  was  a  man  doing  something  we 


64  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

had  never  rehearsed  as  a  team.  But  safe  and 
sure  the  pass  went  from  Horace  Bannard  and  as 
Biffy  Lea  remarked  after  the  game,  "when 
Arthur  kicked  the  ball,  it  seemed  to  stay  up  in 
the  air  about  twenty  minutes." 

Some  people  have  said  that  I  turned  a  somer- 
sault and  landed  on  my  ear,  and  collapsed. 
Anyhow,  it  all  came  our  way  at  the  end,  the  ball 
sailed  over  the  cross  bar.  The  score  then  was 
11  to  10,  and  the  Princeton  stand  let  out  a  roar 
of  triumph  that  could  be  heard  way  down  in  New 
Jersey. 

There  were  but  thirty-six  seconds  left  for  play. 
Yale  made  a  splendid  supreme  effort  to  score 
further.     But  it  was  futile. 

Crowds  had  left  the  field  before  Poe  made  his 
great  goal  kick.  They  had  accepted  a  Yale  vic- 
tory as  inevitable.  Some  say  that  bets  were  paid 
on  the  strength  of  this  conviction.  The  Yale 
News,  which  went  to  press  five  minutes  before 
the  game  ended,  got  out  an  edition  stating  that 
Yale  had  won.     They  had  to  change  that  story. 

During  the  seconds  preceding  Poe's  kick  for 
a  goal  I  had  a  queer  obsession.  It  was  a  serious 
matter  to  me  then.  I  can  recall  it  now  with 
amusement.  "Big"  was  a  prefix  not  of  my  own 
selection.  I  had  never  appreciated  its  justifica- 
tion, however,  until  that  moment. 

Horace  Bannard  was  playing  center.  I  had 
my  left  hand  clasped  under  the  elastic  in  his 
trouser  leg,  ready  to  form  a  barrier  against  the 


MY  LAST  GAME  65 

Yale  forwards.  Brown,  Hale  and  McBride 
tried  to  break  through  to  block  the  kick.  I 
thought  of  a  million  things  but  most  of  all  I  was 
afraid  of  a  blocked  kick.  To  be  frank,  I  was 
afraid  I  would  block  it — that  Poe  couldn't  clear 
me,  that  he  would  kick  the  ball  into  me. 

I  crouched  as  low  as  I  could,  and  the  more  I 
worried  the  larger  I  seemed  to  be  and  I  feared 
greatly  for  what  might  occur  behind  me.  It 
seemed  as  if  I  were  sweUing  up.  But  finally,  as 
I  reahzed  that  the  ball  had  gone  over  me  and  was 
on  its  way  to  the  goal,  I  breathed  a  sigh  of  rehef 
and  said, 

"Thank  God,  it  cleared!" 

How  eager  we  were  to  get  that  ball,  the  hard- 
earned  prize,  which  now  rests  in  the  Princeton 
gymnasium,  a  companion  ball  to  the  one  of  the 
1898  victory.  Yes,  it  had  all  been  accomplished, 
and  we  were  happy.  New  Haven  looked  differ- 
ent to  us.  It  was  many  years  since  Princeton 
had  sent  Yale  down  to  defeat  on  Yale  Field. 

Victory  made  us  forget  the  sadness  of  former 
defeats.  It  was  a  joyous  crowd  that  rode  back 
to  the  private  cars.  Varsity  players  and  sub- 
stitutes shared  alike  in  the  joy,  which  was  unre- 
strained. We  soon  had  our  clothes  changed,  and 
were  on  our  way  to  New  York  for  the  banquet 
and  celebration  of  our  victory. 

Arthur  Poe  was  the  lion  of  the  hour.  No  finer 
fellow  ever  received  more  just  tribute. 

It  would  take  a  separate  volume  to  describe 


66  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  incidents  of  that  trip  from  New  Haven  to 
New  York.  Before  it  had  ended  we  reahzed  if 
we  never  had  reahzed  it  before  how  sweet  was 
victory,  and  how  worth  while  the  striving  that 
brought  it  to  us. 

Suffice  it  to  say  that  that  Yale  football  was  the 
most  popular  "passenger"  on  the  train.  Over 
and  over  we  played  the  game  and  a  million 
caresses  were  lavished  upon  the  trophy. 

This  may  seem  an  excess  of  sentiment  to  some, 
but  those  who  have  played  football  understand 
me.  Looking  back  through  the  retrospect  of 
seventeen  years,  I  realize  that  I  did  not  fully 
understand  then  the  meaning  of  those  happy  mo- 
ments. I  now  appreciate  that  it  was  simply  the 
deep  satisfaction  that  comes  from  having  made 
good — the  sense  of  real  accomplishment. 

Enthusiastic  Princeton  men  were  waiting  for 
us  at  the  Grand  Central  Station.  They  escorted 
us  to  the  Murray  Hill  Hotel,  and  the  wonderful 
banquet  that  awaited  us.  The  spirit  of  the  oc- 
casion will  be  understood  by  football  players  and. 
enthusiasts  who  have  enjoyed  similar  experi- 
ences. 

The  members  of  the  team  just  sat  and  listened 
to  speeches  by  the  alumni  and  coaches.  It  all 
seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  When  the  gather- 
ing broke  up,  the  players  became  members  of  dif- 
ferent groups,  who  continued  their  celebration 
in  the  various  ways  provided  by  the  hospitalitjr 
of  the  great  city. 


MY  LAST  GAJNIE  67 

Hillebrand  and  I  ended  the  ni^ht  together. 
When  we  awoke  in  the  morning,  the  Yale  foot- 
ball was  there  between  our  pillows,  the  bandaged 
shoulder  and  collarbone  of  Hillebrand  nestling 
close  to  it. 

Then  came  the  home-going  of  the  team  to 
Princeton,  and  the  huge  bonfire  that  the  whole 
university  turned  out  to  build.  Some  nearby 
wood  yard  was  looking  the  next  day  for  thirty- 
six  cords  of  wood  that  had  served  as  the  founda- 
tion for  the  victorious  blaze.  It  was  learned  aft- 
erward that  the  owner  of  the  cord-wood  had 
backed  the  team — so  he  had  no  regrets. 

The  team  was  driven  up  in  buses  from  the  sta- 
tion. It  was  a  proud  privilege  to  light  the  bon- 
fire. Every  man  on  the  team  had  to  make  a 
speech  and  then  we  had  a  banquet  at  the  Prince- 
ton Inn.  Later  in  the  year  the  team  was  ban- 
queted by  the  alumni  organizations  around  the 
country.  Every  man  had  a  peck  of  souvenirs — 
gold  matchsafes,  footballs,  and  other  things. 
Nothing  was  too  good  for  the  victors.  Well, 
well,  "To  the  victors  belong  the  spoils."  That  is 
the  verdict  of  history. 


CHAPTER  VI 

HEROES  OF  THE  PAST 
THE  EARLY  DAYS 

WE  treasure  the  memory  of  the  good 
men  who  have  gone  before.  This  is 
true  of  the  world's  history,  a  nation's 
history,  that  of  a  state,  and  of  a  great  university. 
Most  true  is  it  of  the  memory  of  men  of  heroic 
mold.  As  schoolboys,  our  imaginations  were 
fired  by  the  records  of  the  brilliant  achievements 
of  a  Perry,  a  Decatur  or  a  Paul  Jones ;  and,  as 
we  grow  older,  we  look  back  to  those  heroes  of 
our  boyhood  days,  and  our  hearts  beat  fast  again 
as  we  recall  their  daring  deeds  and  pay  them 
tribute  anew  for  the  stout  hearts,  the  splendid 
fighting  stamina,  and  the  unswerving  integrity 
that  made  them  great  men  in  history. 

In  every  college  and  university  there  is  a  hall 
of  fame,  where  the  heroes  of  the  past  are  idolized 
by  the  younger  generations.  Trophies,  por- 
traits, old  flags  and  banners  hang  there. 
Threadbare  though  they  may  be,  they  are  rich 
in  memories.  These  are,  however,  only  the  ma- 
terial things — "the  trappings  and  the  suits"  of 
fame — but  in  the  hearts  of  university  men  the 
memory  of  the  heroes  of  the  past  is  firmly  and 

08 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  69 

reverently  enshrined.  Their  achievements  are  a 
distinguished  part  of  the  university's  history — 
a  part  of  our  hves  as  university  men — and  we  are 
ever  ready  now  to  burn  incense  in  their  honor, 
as  we  were  in  the  old  days  to  bum  bonfires,  in 
celebration  of  their  deeds. 

It  is  well  now  that  we  recall  some  of  the  men 
who  have  stood  in  the  front  line  of  football;  in 
the  making  and  preservation  of  the  great  game. 
Many  of  them  have  not  lived  to  see  the  results 
of  their  service  to  the  sport  which  they  deemed 
to  be  manly  and  worth  while.  It  is,  however, 
because  they  stood  there  during  days,  often  full 
of  stress  and  severe  criticism  of  the  game,  staunch 
and  resistless,  that  football  occupies  its  present 
high  plane  in  the  athletic  world. 

It  may  be  that  some  of  their  names  are  not 
now  associated  with  football.  Some  of  them  are 
captains  of  industry.  They  are  in  the  forefront 
of  public  affairs.  Some  of  them  are  engaged 
in  the  world's  work  in  far-away  lands.  But  the 
spirit  that  these  men  apply  to  their  life  work 
is  the  same  spirit  that  stirred  them  on  the  grid- 
iron. Their  football  training  has  made  them 
better  able  to  fight  the  battle  of  life. 

Men  who  gave  signals,  are  now  directing  large 
industries.  Players  who  carried  the  ball,  are 
now  carrying  trade  to  the  ends  of  the  world. 
Men  who  bucked  the  line,  are  forging  their  way 
sturdily  to  the  front.  INIen  who  were  tackles, 
are  still  meeting  their  opponents  with  the  same 


70  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

intrepid  zeal.  The  men  who  played  at  end  in 
those  days,  are  to-day  seeing  that  nothing  gets 
around  them  in  the  business  world.  The  public 
is  the  referee  and  umpire.  It  knows  their 
achievements  in  the  greater  game  of  life. 

It  is  not  my  purpose  to  select  an  all-star  foot- 
ball team  from  the  long  list  of  heroes  past  and 
present.  It  is  not  possible  to  select  any  one  man 
whom  we  can  all  crown  as  king.  We  all  have 
our  football  idols,  our  own  heroes,  men  after 
whom  we  have  patterned,  who  were  our  inspira- 
tion. 

We  can  never  line  up  in  actual  scrimmage  the 
heroes  of  the  past  with  those  of  more  recent  years. 
What  a  treat  if  this  could  be  arranged! 

There  are  many  men  I  have  idolized  in  foot- 
ball, not  only  for  their  record  as  players,  but  for 
the  loyalty  and  spirit  for  the  game  which  they 
have  inspired. 

Walter  Camp 

"Wlien  I  asked  Walter  Camp  to  write  the  in- 
troduction to  this  book,  I  told  him  that  as  he  had 
written  about  football  jilayers  for  twenty  years 
it  was  up  to  some  one  to  relate  some  of  his 
achievements  as  a  football  player.  We  all  know 
Walter  Camp  as  a  successful  business  man  and 
as  a  football  genius  whose  strategy  has  meant 
much  to  Yale.  His  untiring  efforts,  his  con- 
tributions to  the  promotion  of  the  best  interests 
of  the  game,  stand  as  a  brilliant  record  in  the 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  71 

history  of  football.  To  give  him  his  just  due 
would  require  a  special  volume.  The  football 
world  knows  Walter  Camp  as  a  thoroughbred,  a 
man  who  has  played  the  game  fairly,  and  sees 
to  it  that  the  game  is  being  played  fairly  to-day. 

We  have  read  his  books,  enjoyed  his  football 
stories,  and  kept  in  touch  with  the  game  through 
his  newspaper  articles.  He  is  the  loyal,  ever- 
present  critic  on  the  side  lines  and  the  helpful 
adviser  in  every  emergency.  He  has  helped  to 
safeguard  the  good  name  of  football  and  kept 
pace  with  the  game  until  to-day  he  is  known  as 
the  "Father  of  football." 

Let  us  go  back  into  football  history  where,  in 
the  recollections  of  others,  we  shall  see  Freshman 
Camp  make  the  team,  score  touchdowns,  kick 
goals  and  captain  Yale  teams  to  victory. 

F.  R.  Vernon,  who  was  a  freshman  at  Yale 
when  Camp  was  a  sophomore,  draws  a  vivid 
word  picture  of  Camp  in  his  active  football  days. 
Vernon  played  on  the  Yale  team  with  Camp. 

"Walter  Camp  in  his  football  plaj^ing  days," 
says  Vernon,  "was  built  physically  on  field  run- 
ning lines;  quick  on  his  legs  and  with  his  arms. 
His  action  was  easy  all  over  and  seemed  to  be 
in  thorough  control  from  a  well-balanced  head, 
from  which  looked  a  pair  of  exceptionally  keen, 
piercing,  expressive  brown  eyes. 

"Camp  was  always  alert,  and  seemed  to  sense 
developments  before  they  occurred.  One  of  my 
chief  recollections  of  Camp's  play  was  his  great 


72  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

confidence  with  the  ball.  In  his  room,  on  the 
campus,  in  the  gym%  wherever  he  was,  if  possible, 
he  would  have  a  football  with  him.  He  seemed 
to  know  every  inch  of  its  surface,  and  it  seemed 
almost  as  if  the  ball  knew  him.  It  would  stick 
to  his  palm,  like  iron  to  a  magnet. 

"In  one  of  his  plays.  Camp  would  run  down 
the  side  of  the  field,  the  ball  held  far  out  with  one 
arm,  while  the  other  arm  was  performing  yeoman 
service  in  warding  off  the  oncoming  tacklers. 
Frequently  he  would  pass  the  ball  from  one  hand 
to  the  other,  while  still  running,  depending  upon 
which  arm  he  saw  he  would  need  for  defense. 
Smilingly  and  confidently.  Camp  would  run  the 
gauntlet  of  opposing  players  for  many  con- 
secutive gains.  I  do  not  recall  one  instance  in 
which  he  lost  the  ball  through  these  tactics. 

"It  was  a  pretty  game  to  play  and  a  pretty 
game  to  look  at.  Would  that  the  rules  could 
be  so  worded  as  to  make  the  football  of  Camp's 
time  the  football  of  to-day ! 

"Walter  Camp's  natural  ability  as  a  football 
player  was  recognized  as  soon  as  he  entered  Yale 
in  1876.  He  made  the  'varsity  at  once  and 
played  half-back.  It  was  in  the  first  Harvard 
football  game  at  Hamilton  Park  that  the  Har- 
vard captain,  who  was  a  huge  man  with  a  full, 
bushy  beard,  saw  Walter  Camp,  then  a  striphng 
freshman  in  uniform,  and  remarked  to  the  Yale 
Captain : 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  73 

"  *  You  don't  mean  to  let  that  child  play ;  he  is 
too  light;  he  will  get  hurt.' 

"Walter  made  a  mental  note  of  that  remark, 
and  during  the  game  the  Harvard  captain  had 
occasion  to  remember  it  also,  when  in  one  of  the 
plays  Camp  tackled  him,  and  the  two  went  to 
the  ground  with  a  hea\'y  thud.  As  the  Harvard 
captain  gradually  came  to,  he  remarked  to  one 
of  his  team  mates: 

"  'Well,  that  little  fellow  nearly  put  me  out!' 

"Camp's  brilliant  playing  earned  him  the  cap- 
taincy of  the  team  in  1878  and  1879.  He  had 
full  command  of  his  men  and  was  extremely  pop- 
ular with  them,  but  this  did  not  prevent  his  being 
a  stickler  for  discipline. 

"In  my  day  on  the  Yale  team  with  Camp," 
Vernon  states,  "Princeton  was  our  dire  oppo- 
nent. For  a  week  or  so  before  a  Princeton  game, 
we  all  agreed  to  stay  on  the  campus  and  to  be 
in  bed  every  night  by  eleven  o'clock.  Johnny 
Moorhead,  who  was  one  of  our  best  runners,  de- 
cided one  night  to  go  to  the  theatre,  however, 
and  was  caught  by  Captain  Camp,  whereupon  we 
were  all  summoned  out  of  bed  to  Camp's  room, 
shortly  before  midnight.  After  the  roundup  we 
learned  the  reason  for  our  unexpected  meet- 
ing. There  was  some  discussion  in  which  Camp 
took  very  little  part.  No  one  expected  that 
Johnny  would  receive  more  than  a  severe  repri- 
mand and  this  feeling  was  due  largely  to  the  fact 


74  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

that  we  needed  him  in  the  game.  Imagine  our 
surprise,  therefore,  when  Camp,  who  had  left 
us  for  a  moment,  returned  to  the  room  and  handed 
in  his  resignation  as  captain  of  the  team.  We 
revolted  at  this.  Johnny,  who  sized  up  the  sit- 
uation, rather  than  have  the  team  lose  Camp, 
decided  to  quit  the  team  himself.  What  occurred 
the  next  day  between  Camp  and  Johnny  Moor- 
head  we  never  knew,  but  Johnny  played  in  the 
game  and  squared  himself." 

Walter  Camp's  name  is  coupled  with  that  of 
Chummy  Eaton  in  football  historj^  "Eaton 
was  on  the  left  end  rush  line,"  says  Vernon,  "and 
played  a  great  game  with  Camp  down  the  side 
line.  When  one  was  nearly  caught  for  a  down, 
the  other  would  receive  the  ball  from  him  on  an 
over-head  throw  and  proceed  with  the  run. 
Camp  and  Eaton  would  repeat  this  play,  send- 
ing the  ball  back  and  forth  down  the  side  of  the 
field  for  great  gains. 

"In  one  of  the  big  games  in  the  fall  of  1879, 
Eaton  had  a  large  muscle  in  one  of  his  legs  torn 
and  had  to  quit  playing  for  that  season."  Ver- 
non was  put  in  Chummy's  place.  "But  I  couldn't 
fill  Chummy's  shoes,"  Vernon  acknowledges, 
"for  he  and  Camp  had  practiced  their  beautiful 
side  line  play  all  the  fall. 

"The  next  year  Chummy's  parents  wouldn't 
let  him  play,  but  Chummy  was  game — he  simply 
couldn't  resist — it  was  a  case  of  Love  Before 
Duty  with  him.     He  played  on  the  Yale  team 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  75 

the  next  fall,  however,  but  not  as  Eaton,  and 
every  one  who  followed  football  was  wondering 
who  that  star  player  'Adams'  was  and  where 
he  came  from.  But  those  on  the  inside  knew  it 
was  Chumm3\ 

"Frederic  Remington,"  saj^s  Vernon,  "was  a 
member  of  our  team.  We  were  close  friends 
and  spent  many  Sunday  afternoons  on  long 
walks.  I  can  see  him  now  with  his  India  ink 
pencil  sketching  as  we  went  along,  and  I  must 
laugh  now  at  the  nerve  I  had  to  joke  him  about 
his  efforts. 

"Remy  was  a  good  football  player  and  one 
of  the  best  boxers  in  college.  Dear  Old  Remy  is 
gone,  but  he  left  his  mark." 

Other  men,  equally  prominent  old  Yale  men 
tell  me,  who  were  on  the  team  that  j^'ear  were 
Hull,  Jack  Harding,  Ben  Lamb,  Bob  Watson, 
Pete  Peters  and  many  others. 

Walter  Camp,  as  Yale  gridiron  stories  go,  was 
not  only  captain  of  his  team,  but  in  reality  also 
its  coach.  Perhaps  he  can  be  called  the  pioneer 
coach  of  Yale  football.  It  is  most  interesting  to 
listen  to  old  time  Yale  players  relate  incidents  of 
the  days  when  they  played  under  Walter  Camp 
as  their  captain:  how  they  came  to  his  room  by 
invitation  at  night,  sat  on  the  floor  with  their 
backs  to  the  wall,  with  nothing  in  the  center  of 
the  room  but  a  regulation  football.  There  they 
got  together,  talked  things  over,  made  sugges- 
tions and  comparisons.     And  it  is  said  of  Camp 


76  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

that  he  would  do  more  listening  by  far  than  talk- 
ing. This  was  characteristic,  for  although  he 
knew  so  much  of  the  game  he  was  willing  to  get 
every  point  of  view  and  profit  by  every  sug- 
gestion. 

In  1880  Camp  relinquished  the  captaincy  to 
R.  W.  Watson.  Yale  again  defeated  Harvard, 
Camp  kicking  a  goal  from  placement.  Follow- 
ing this  R.  W.  Watson  ran  through  the  entire 
Harvard  team  for  a  touchdown. 

Harvard  men  were  greatly  pained  when  Wal- 
ter Camp  played  again  in  1881.  He  should  have 
graduated  in  1880.  This  game  was  also  won  by 
Yale,  thus  making  the  fourth  victorious  Yale 
team  that  Camp  played  on.  This  record  has 
never  been  equalled.  Camp  played  six  years  at 
Yale. 

Jolm  Harding  was  another  of  the  famous  old 
Yale  stars  who  played  on  Walter  Camp's  team. 

"It  is  now  more  than  thirty-five  years  since 
my  days  on  the  football  gridiron,"  writes  Hard- 
ing. "What  little  elementary  training  I  got  in 
football,  I  attribute  to  the  old  game  of  'theory,' 
which  for  two  years  on  spring  and  summer  even- 
ings, after  supper,  we  used  to  play  at  St.  Paul's 
School  in  Concord,  N.  H.,  on  the  athletic 
grounds  near  the  Middle  School.  One  fellow 
would  be  'it'  as  we  dashed  from  one  side  of 
the  grounds  to  the  other  and  when  one  was 
trapped  he  joined  the  'its,'  until  everybody  was 
caught.     I  learned  there  how  to  dodge,  as  well 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  77 

as  the  rudiments  of  the  necessary  football  ac- 
complislinient  of  how  to  fall  down  without  get- 
ting hurt.  As  a  result  of  this  experience,  with 
my  chum,  W.  A.  Peters,  when  we  got  down  to 
Yale  in  the  fall  of  '76,  we  offered  ourselves  as 
willing  victims  for  the  University  football  team, 
and  with  the  result  that  we  both  'made'  the  fresh- 
man team,  and  had  our  first  experience  in  a 
match  game  of  football  against  the  Harvard 
freshman  at  Boston.  I  don't  remember  who 
won  that  contest,  but  I  do  remember  the  Uni- 
versity eleven,  under  Eugene  Baker's  careful 
training,  beating  Harvard  that  fall  at  New 
Haven  and  mv  football  enthusiasm  beinff  fired 
up  to  a  desire  to  make  the  team,  if  it  were  pos- 
sible. 

"Of  course,  Walter  Camp  has  for  many  years, 
and  desen^edly  so,  been  regarded  as  the  father 
of  football  at  Yale,  but  in  my  day,  and  at  least 
until  Baker  left  college,  he  was  only  an  ordinary 
mortal  and  a  good  half-back.  Baker  was  the 
unquestioned  star  and  I  cannot  disabuse  my  mind 
that  he  was  the  original  football  man  of  Yale, 
and  at  least  entitled  to  the  title  of  'grandfather' 
of  the  game  there  and  it  was  from  him  that  my 
tuition  mainly  came. 

"My  impression  is  that  Baker  was  always  for 
the  open  running  and  passing  game  and  that 
mass  playing  and  flying  wedges  and  the  various 
refinements  of  the  game  that  depended  largely 
on  'beef  were  of  a  later  day. 


78  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"For  four  years  I  played  in  the  rush  line  with 
Walter  Camp  as  a  half-back,  and  for  two  years, 
at  least,  with  Hull  and  Ben  Lamb  on 
either  side  of  me,  all  of  us  somehow  understand- 
ing each  other's  game  and  all  being  ready  and 
willing  to  help  each  other  out.  Whatever  ability 
and  dexterity  I  may  have  developed  seemed  to 
show  itself  at  its  best  when  playing  with  them 
and  to  prove  that  good  team  work  and  'knowing 
your  man'  wins. 

"I  got  to  know  Walter  Camp's  methods  and 
ways  of  playing,  so  that,  somehow  or  other,  I 
could  judge  pretty  well  where  the  ball  was  going 
to  drop  when  he  kicked  and  could  navigate  my- 
self about  so  that  I  was,  more  often  than  any 
one  else  on  our  side,  near  the  ball  when  it  dropped 
to  the  ground,  and,  if  perchance,  it  happened  to 
be  muffed  by  an  opposing  player,  which  put  me 
'on  side,'  the  chances  of  a  touch-down,  if  I  got  the 
ball,  were  excellent,  and  Hull  and  Lamb  were 
somehow  on  hand  to  back  me  up  and  were  ready 
to  follow  me  in  any  direction. 

"During  my  last  two  years  of  football  the 
'rushers'  were  unanimously  of  the  opinion  that 
the  kicking,  dodging  and  passing  open  game  was 
the  game  we  should  strive  for  and  that  it  was  the 
duty  of  the  half-back  and  backs  to  end  their 
runs  with  a  good  long  punt,  wherever  possible, 
and  give  us  a  chance  to  get  under  the  ball  when 
it  came  down,  while  the  rest  of  the  team  behind 
the  hne  were  in  favor  of  a  running  mass  play 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  79 

game,  particularly  in  wet  and  slippery  weather. 
"I  remember  once  in  my  senior  year  our  di- 
vergence of  views  on  this  question,  about  three 
weeks  before  the  final  game,  nearly  split  our 
team,  and  that  as  a  result  I  nearly  received  the 
doubtful  honor  of  becoming  the  captain  of  a 
defeated  Yale  team.  Camp,  fearful  of  wet 
weather  and  possible  snow  at  the  Thanksgiving 
game,  and  with  Channing,  Eaton  and  Fred  Rem- 
ington as  the  heavy  Yale  ends  and  everybody 
*big'  in  the  rush  line  excepting  myself,  was  trj^- 
ing  to  develop  us  with  as  little  kicking  as  possi- 
ble, and  was  sensitive  because  of  the  protests  from 
the  rush  line  that  there  was  no  kicking.  We 
were  all  summoned  one  evening  to  his  room  in 
Durfee;  the  situation  explained,  together  with 
his  unwillingness  to  assume  the  responsibility  of 
captain  unless  his  ideas  were  followed;  his  fear 
of  defeat,  if  they  were  not  followed,  his  willing- 
ness to  continue  on  the  team  as  a  half-back  and 
to  do  his  best  and  his  resignation  as  captain  with 
the  suggestion  of  my  taking  the  responsibility  of 
the  position.  Things  looked  blue  for  Yale  when 
Walter  walked  out  of  the  door,  but  after  some 
ten  minutes'  discussion  we  decided  that  the  open 
game  was  the  better,  despite  Camp's  opinion  to 
the  contrary,  but  that  we  could  not  play  the  open 
game  without  Camp  as  captain.  Some  one  was 
sent ^ out  to  bring  Walter  back;  matters  were 
smoothed  out;  we  played  the  open  game  and 
never  lost  a  touchdown  during  the  season.     But 


80  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

during  the  four  years  I  was  on  the  Yale  varsity 
we  never  lost  but  one  touchdown,  from  which  a 
goal  was  kicked  and  there  were  no  goals  kicked 
from  the  field.  This  goal  was  lost  to  Princeton, 
and  I  think  was  in  the  fall  of  '78,  the  year  that 
Princeton  won  the  championship.  The  two  men 
that  were  more  than  anybody  else  responsible  for 
the  record  were  Eugene  Baker  and  Walter 
Camp,  but  behind  it  all  was  the  old  Yale  spirit, 
which  seems  to  show  itself  better  on  the  football 
field  than  in  any  other  branch  of  athletics." 

Theodore  M.  McNair 

On  December  19th,  1915,  there  appeared  in 
the  newspapers  a  notice  of  the  death  of  an  old 
Princeton  athlete,  in  Japan — Theodore  M. 
McNair — who,  while  unknown  to  the  younger 
football  enthusiasts,  was  considered  a  famous 
player  in  his  day.  To  those  who  saw  him  play 
the  news  brought  back  many  thrills  of  his  adven- 
tures upon  the  football  field.  The  following  is 
what  an  old  fellow  player  has  to  say  about  his 
team  mate: 

''Princeton  has  lost  one  of  her  most  remarka- 
ble old  time  athletes  in  the  death  of  Theodore  M. 
McNair  of  the  class  of  1879. 

"McNair  was  a  classmate  of  Woodrow  Wil- 
son. After  his  graduation  he  became  a  Presby- 
terian missionary,  a  professor  in  a  Tokio  college 
and  the  head  of  the  Committee  that  introduced 
the  Christian  hymnal  into  Japan. 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  81 

"To  old  Princeton  graduates,  however,  Mc- 
Nair  is  known  best  as  a  great  football  player 
who  was  half-back  on  the  varsity  three  j^ears  and 
was  regarded  as  a  phenomenal  dodger,  runner 
and  kicker.  In  the  three  years  of  his  varsity 
experience  McNair  went  down  to  defeat  only 
once,  the  first  game  in  which  he  appeared  as  a 
regular  player.  The  contest  was  with  Har\^ard 
and  was  played  between  seasons — April  28th, 
1877 — at  Cambridge.  Harvard  won  the  game 
by  2  touch-downs  to  1  for  the  Tigers.  ISIc- 
Nair  made  the  touch-down  for  his  team.  This 
match  is  interesting  in  that  it  marked  the  first 
appearance  of  the  canvas  jacket  on  the  football 
field.  Smock,  one  of  the  Princeton  half-backs, 
designed  such  a  jacket  for  himself  and  there- 
after for  many  seasons  football  players  of  the 
leading  Eastern  colleges  adopted  the  garment 
because  it  made  tackling  more  difficult  under 
the  conditions  of  those  days.  JNIcXair  was  of 
large  frame  and  fleet  of  foot.  He  was  especially 
clever  in  handling  and  passing  the  ball,  w^hich  in 
those  days  was  more  of  an  art  than  at  present. 
It  was  not  unusual  for  the  ball  to  be  passed  from 
player  to  player  after  a  scrimmage  until  a  touch- 
down or  a  field  goal  was  made. 

"Walter  Camp  was  one  of  JNIcXair's  Yale  ad- 
versaries. They  had  many  punting  duels  in  the 
big  games  at  St.  George's  Cricket  Grounds,  IIo- 
boken,  but  Camp  never  had  the  satisfaction  of 
sending  JNIcNair  off  the  field  with  a  beaten  team." 


82  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Alexander  Moffat 

Every  football  enthusiast  who  saw  Alex  Mof- 
fat play  had  the  highest  respect  for  his  ability 
in  the  game.  Alex  Moffat  was  typically  Prince- 
tonian.  His  interest  in  the  game  was  great,  and 
he  was  always  ready  to  give  as  much  time  as 
was  needed  to  the  coaching  of  the  Princeton 
teams.  His  hard,  efficient  work  developed  re- 
markable kickers.  He  loved  the  game  and  was 
a  cheerful,  encouraging  and  sj^mpathetic  coach. 
From  a  man  of  his  day  I  have  learned  something 
about  his  playing,  and  together  we  can  read  of 
this  great  all-round  athlete. 

Alex  Moffat  was  so  small  when  he  was  a  boy 
that  he  was  called  "Teeny-bits."  He  was  still 
small  in  bone  and  bulk  when  he  entered  Prince- 
ton. Alex  had  always  been  active  in  sport  as  a 
boy.  Small  as  he  was,  he  played  a  good  game  of 
baseball  and  tennis  and  he  distinguished  himself 
by  his  kicking  in  football  before  he  was  twelve 
years  of  age.  The  game  was  then  called  Asso- 
ciation Football,  and  kicking  formed  a  large  part 
of  it.  At  an  early  age,  he  became  proficient  in 
kicking  with  right  or  left  foot.  When  he  was 
fifteen  he  created  a  sensation  over  at  the  Old 
Seminary  by  kicking  the  black  rubber  Associa- 
tion football  clear  over  Brown  Hall.  That  was 
kick  enough  for  a  boy  of  fifteen  with  an  old  black 
rubber  football.  If  anybody  doubts  it,  let  him 
try  to  do  the  trick. 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  88 

The  Varsity  team  of  Princeton  in  the  fall  of 
'79  was  captained  by  Bland  Ballard  of  the  class 
of  '80.  He  had  a  bunch  of  giants  back  of  him. 
There  were  fifteen  on  the  team  in  those  days,  and 
among  them  were  such  men  as  Devereaux, 
Brotherhn,  Bryan,  Irv.  Withington,  and  the 
mighty  ^IcNair.  The  scrub  team  player  at  that 
time  was  pretty  nearly  any  chap  that  was  willing 
to  take  his  hfe  in  his  hands  by  going  down  to  the 
field  and  letting  those  ruthless  giants  step  on  his 
face  and  generally  muss  up  his  physical  architec- 
ture. 

When  Alex  announced  one  day  that  he  was 
going  to  take  a  chance  on  the  scrub  team,  his 
friends  were  inclined  to  say  tenderly  and  regret- 
fully, "Good  night,  sweet  prince."  But  Alex 
knew  he  was  there  with  the  kick,  whether  it  came 
on  the  left  or  right,  and  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
have  a  go  with  the  canvas-backed  Titans  of  the 
Varsity  team.  One  fond  friend  watching  Alex 
go  out  on  the  field  drew  a  sort  of  consolation  from 
the  observation  that  "perhaps  Alex  was  so  small 
the  Varsity  men  wouldn't  notice  him."  But 
Alex  soon  showed  them  that  he  was  there.  He 
got  in  a  punt  that  made  Bland  Ballard  gasp. 
The  big  captain  looked  first  at  the  ball,  way  up  in 
the  air,  then  looked  at  Alex  and  he  seemed  to  say 
as  the  Scotsman  said  when  he  compared  the 
small  hen  and  the  huge  egg,  "I  hae  me  doots. 
It  canna  be." 

After  that  the  Varsity  men  took  notice  of 


84  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Alex.  When  the  ball  was  passed  back  to  him 
next  the  regulars  got  through  the  scrub  line  so 
fast  that  Alex  had  to  try  for  a  run.  Bland  Bal- 
lard caught  him  up  in  his  arms,  and  finding  him 
so  light  and  small,  spared  himself  the  trouble  of 
throwing  him  down.  Ballard  simply  sank  down 
on  the  ground  with  Alex  in  his  arms  and  began 
rolling  over  and  over  with  him  towards  the  scrub 
goal.  Alex  cried  "Down!  Down!"  in  a  shrill, 
treble  voice  that  brought  an  exclamation  from 
the  side  line.  "It's  a  shame  to  do  it.  Bland  Bal- 
lard is  robbing  the  cradle." 

Such  was  Alex  Moffat  in  the  fall  of  '79,  still 
something  of  the  "Teeny-bits"  that  he  was  in 
early  boyhood.  In  two  years  Alex's  name  was 
on  the  lips  of  every  gridiron  man  in  the  country, 
and  in  his  senior  year,  as  captain,  he  performed 
an  exploit  in  goal  kicking  that  has  never  been 
equalled. 

In  the  game  with  Harvard  in  the  fall  of  '83, 
he  kicked  five  goals,  four  being  drop  kicks  and 
one  from  a  touch-down.  His  drop  kicks  were  all 
of  them  long  and  two  of  them  were  made  with  the 
left  foot.  Alex  grew  in  stature  and  in  stamina 
and  when  he  was  captain  he  was  regarded  as  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  full-backs  that  the  game  had 
ever  known.  He  never  was  a  heavy  man,  but 
he  was  swift  and  slippery  in  running,  a  deadly 
tackier,  and  a  kicker  that  had  not  his  equal  in  his 
time. 

Alex  remained  prominent  in  football  activity 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  85 

until  his  death  in  1914.  He  served  in  many  ca- 
pacities, as  member  of  committees,  as  coach,  as 
referee  and  as  umpire.  He  was  a  man  of  happy 
and  sunny  nature  who  made  many  friends.  He 
loved  life  and  made  life  joyous  for  those  who 
were  with  him.  He  was  idolized  at  Princeton 
and  his  memory  is  treasured  there  now. 

Wyllys  Terry 

One  of  the  greatest  half  backs  that  ever  played 
for  Yale  is  Wyllys  Terry,  and  it  is  most  inter- 
esting to  hear  this  player  of  many  years  ago  tell 
of  some  of  his  experiences.     Terry  says: 

"It  has  been  asked  of  me  who  were  the  great 
players  of  my  time.  I  can  only  say,  judging 
from  their  work,  that  they  were  all  great,  but 
if  I  were  compelled  to  particularize,  I  should 
mention  the  names  of  Tompkins,  Peters,  Hull, 
Beck,  Twombly,  Richards;  in  fact,  I  would 
have  to  mention  each  team  year  by  year.  To 
them  I  attribute  the  success  of  Yale's  football 
in  my  time,  and  for  many  years  after  that  to  the 
unfailing  zeal  and  devotion  of  Walter  Camp. 

"There  were  no  trainers,  coaches,  or  rubbers 
at  that  time.  The  period  of  practice  was  al- 
most continuous  for  forty-five  minutes.  It  was 
the  idea  in  those  days  that  by  practice  of  this 
kind,  staying  power  and  ability  would  be  brought 
out.  The  principal  points  that  were  impressed 
upon  the  players  were  for  the  rushers  to  tackle 
low  and  follow  their  man. 


86  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

*'This  was  to  them  practically  a  golden  text. 
The  fact  that  a  man  was  injured,  unless  it  was 
a  broken  bone,  or  the  customary  badly  sprained 
ankle,  did  not  relieve  a  man  from  playing  every 
day. 

"It  was  the  spirit,  though  possibly  a  crude  one, 
that  only  those  men  were  wanted  on  the  team 
who  could  go  through  the  battering  of  the  game 
from  start  to  finish. 

"The  discipline  of  the  team  was  rigorous ;  men 
were  forced  to  do  as  they  were  told.  If  a  man 
did  not  think  he  was  in  any  condition  to  play  he 
reported  to  the  captain.  These  reports  were 
very  infrequent  though,  for  I  know  in  my  own 
case,  the  first  time  I  reported,  I  was  so  lame  I 
could  hardly  put  one  foot  before  the  other,  but 
was  told  to  take  a  football  and  run  around  the 
track,  which  was  a  half  mile  long  and  encircled 
the  football  field.  On  my  return  I  was  told  to 
get  back  in  my  position  and  play.  As  a  result, 
there  were  ^ery  few  players  who  reported  in- 
juries to  the  captain. 

"This,  when  you  figure  the  manner  in  which 
teams  are  coached  to-day,  may  appear  brutal 
and  a  waste  of  good  material,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  it  was  not.  It  made  the  teams  what  they 
were  in  those  days — strong,  hard  and  fast. 

"As  to  actual  results  under  this  pohcy,  I  can 
only  say  that,  during  my  period  in  college,  we 
never  lost  a  game. 

"Training  to-day  is  quite  different.     I  think 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  87 

more  men  are  injured  nowadays  than  in  mj'  time 
under  our  severe  training.  I  think  further  that 
this  softer  training  is  carried  to  an  extreme,  and 
that  the  football  player  of  to-day  has  too  much 
attention  paid  to  his  injury,  and  what  he  has  to 
say,  and  the  trainer,  doctors  and  attendants  are 
mostly  responsible  for  having  the  players  inca- 
pacitated by  their  attention. 

"The  spirit  of  Yale  in  my  day,  a  spirit  which 
was  inculcated  in  our  minds  in  playing  games, 
was  never  to  let  a  member  of  the  opposing  team 
think  he  could  beat  you.  If  you  experienced 
a  shock  or  were  injured  and  it  was  still  possible 
to  get  back  to  your  position  either  in  the  line  or 
back  field — get  there  at  once.  If  you  felt  that 
your  injur}'^  was  so  severe  that  you  could  not  get 
back,  report  to  your  captain  immediately  and 
abide  by  his  decision,  which  was  either  to  leave 
the  field  or  go  to  your  position. 

"It  may  be  said  by  some  of  the  players  to-day 
that  the  punts  in  those  days  were  more  easily 
caught  than  those  of  to-day.  There  is  nothing 
to  a  remark  hke  that.  The  spiral  kick  was  de- 
veloped in  the  fall  of  '82,  and  I  know  that  both 
Richards  and  myself  knew  the  fellow  who  de- 
veloped it.  From  my  experience  in  the  Prince- 
ton game  I  can  testify  that  Alex  JMoffat  was  a 
past  master  at  it. 

"One  rather  amusing  thing  I  remember  hear- 
ing years  ago  while  standing  with  an  old  foot- 
ball player  watching  a  Princeton  game.     The 


88  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ball  was  thrown  forward  by  the  quarter  back, 
which  was  a  foul.  The  half  back,  who  was  play- 
ing well  out,  dashed  in  and  caught  the  ball  on  the 
run,  evaded  the  opposing  end,  pushed  the  half 
back  aside  and  ran  half  the  length  of  the  field, 
scoring  a  touchdown.  The  applause  was  tre- 
mendous. But  the  Umpire,  who  had  seen  the 
foul,  called  the  ball  back.  A  fair  spectator  who 
was  standing  in  front  of  me,  asked  my  friend 
why  the  ball  was  called  back.  My  friend  re- 
marked: 'The  Princeton  player  has  just  re- 
ceived an  encore,  that's  all.' 

"While  the  game  was  hard  and  rough  in  the 
early  days,  yet  I  consider  that  the  discipline  and 
the  training  which  the  men  went  through  were 
of  great  assistance  to  them,  physically,  morally 
and  intellectually,  in  after  years.  Some  of  the 
pleasantest  friendships  that  I  hold  to-day  were 
made  in  connection  with  my  football  days,  among 
the  graduates  of  my  own  and  other  colleges. 

"When  fond  parents  ask  the  advisability  of 
letting  their  sons  play  football,  I  always  tell 
them  of  an  incident  at  the  Penn-Harvard  game 
at  Philadelphia,  one  year,  which  I  witnessed  from 
the  top  of  a  coach.  A  young  girl  was  asked  the 
question : 

"  'If  you  were  a  mother  and  had  a  son,  would 
you  allow  him  to  play  football?' 

"The  young  lady  thought  for  a  moment  and 
then  answered  in  this  spirited,  if  somewhat  de- 
vious, fashion: 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  89 

"  'If  I  were  a  son  and  had  a  mother,  you  bet  Fd 
play!' " 

Memories  of  John  C.  Bell 

In  my  association  with  football,  among  the 
many  friendships  I  formed,  I  prize  none  more 
highly  than  that  of  John  C.  Bell,  whose  activity 
in  Pennsylvania  football  has  been  kept  alive  long 
since  his  plajang  day.  Let  us  go  back  and  talk 
the  game  over  with  him. 

"I  played  football  in  my  prep  school  days," 
he  says,  "and  on  the  'Varsity  teams  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania  in  the  years  '82-'83-'84. 
After  graduation,  following  a  sort  of  nominating 
mass  meeting  of  the  students,  I  was  elected  to  the 
football  committee  of  the  LTniversity,  about  1886, 
and  served  as  chairman  of  that  committee  until 
1901 ;  retiring  that  season  when  George  Wood- 
ruflp,  after  a  term  of  ten  years,  terminated  his 
relationship  as  coach  of  our  team. 

"I  also  served,  as  you  know,  as  a  representa- 
tive of  the  University  on  the  Football  Rules  Com- 
mittee from  about  1886  until  the  time  I  was  ap- 
pointed Attorney  General  in  1911. 

"More  pleasant  associations  and  relationships 
I  have  never  had  than  those  with  my  fellow- 
members  of  that  Committee  in  the  late  '80's  and 
the  '90's,  including  Camp  of  Yale;  Billy  Brooks, 
Bert  Waters,  Bob  Wrenn  and  Percy  Haughton 
of  Harvard;  Paul  Dashiell  of  Annapolis;  Tracy 
Harris,  Alex  Moffat  and  John  Fine  of  Prince- 


90  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ton;  and  Professor  Dennis  of  Cornell.  Later 
the  Committee,  as  you  know,  was  enlarged  by 
the  admission  of  representatives  from  the  West; 
and  among  them  were  Alonzo  Stagg,  of  Chicago 
University,  and  Harry  Williams  of  Minnesota. 
Finer  fellows  I  have  never  known;  they  were 
one  and  all  Nature's  noblemen. 

"Some  of  them,  alas!  like  Alex  Moffat,  have 
gone  to  the  Great  Beyond.  Representing  rival 
universities,  between  whose  student  bodies  and 
some  of  whose  alumni,  partisan  feeling  ran  high 
in  the  '90's,  nothing,  however,  save  good  fellow- 
ship and  good  cheer  ever  existed  between  Alex 
and  me. 

"I  am  genuinely  glad  that  I  played  the  game 
with  my  teammates;  witnessed  for  many  years 
nearly  all  the  big  games  of  the  eastern  colleges ; 
mingled  season  after  season  with  the  players  and 
the  enthusiastic  alumni  of  the  competing  univer- 
sities in  attendance  at  the  annual  matches;  sat 
and  deliberated  each  recurring  year,  as  I  have 
said,  with  those  fine  fellows  who  made  and 
amended  the  rules,  and  in  this  way  helped  to  de- 
velop the  game,  the  manliest  of  all  our  sports; 
and  that  I  have  thus  breathed,  recreated  and 
been  invigorated  in  a  football  atmosphere  every 
autumn  for  more  than  a  third  of  a  century. 
Growing  older  every  year,  one  still  remains 
young — as  young  in  heart  and  spirit  as  when  he 
donned  the  moleskins,  and  caught  and  kicked  and 
carried  the  ball  himself.     And  all  these  football 


THE  EARLY  DAYS  91 

experiences  make  one  a  happier,  stronger  and 
more  loyal  man. 

"I  remember  in  my  prep  school  days  playing 
upon  a  team  made  up  largely  of  high  school 
boys.  One  game  stands  out  in  my  recollection. 
It  was  against  the  Freslmien  team  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania,  captained  by  Johnny 
Thayer  who  went  down  with  the  Titanic. 

"Arriving  after  the  game  had  started,  I  came 
out  to  the  side-lines  and  called  to  the  captain  ask- 
ing whether  I  was  to  play.  He  glowered  at  me 
and  made  no  answer.  A  few  minutes  later  our 
'second  captain'  called  to  me  to  come  into  the 
game,  saying  that  Smith  was  only  to  play  until 
I  arrived.  Quick  as  a  flash  I  stepped  into  the 
field  of  play,  and  almost  instantly  Thayer  kicked 
the  ball  over  the  rush  line  and  it  came  bounding 
down  right  into  my  arm.  Off  I  went  like  a 
flash  through  the  line,  past  the  backs  and  full- 
backs, only  to  be  over-taken  within  a  few  yards 
of  the  goal.  The  teams  lined  up,  and  thereupon 
Thayer,  with  his  eagle  eye  looking  us  over,  called 
out  to  our  captain  'how  many  fellows  are  you 
playing  anj^way?'  Instantly  our  captain  or- 
dered Smith  off  the  field  saying  'you  were  only 
to  play  until  Bell  came,'  and  poor  Smith  left 
without  any  audible  murmur.  This  is  what 
might  be  called  one  of  the  accidents  of  the  game. 

"Perhaps  the  most  memorable  game  in  which 
I  played  was  against  Harvard  in  1884  when 
Pennslyvania  won  upon  Forbes  Field  by  the 


92  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

score  of  4  to  0.  It  was  our  first  victory  over  the 
Crimson,  not  to  be  repeated  again  until  the  mem- 
orable game  of  1894,  which  triumph  was  again 
repeated,  after  still  another  decade,  in  our  great 
victory  of  1904.  This  last  victory  came  after 
five  years  of  continuing  defeats,  and  I  remember 
that  we  were  all  jubilant  when  we  heard  the  news 
from  Cambridge.  I  recall  that  Dr.  J.  William 
White,  C.  S.  Packard  and  I  were  playing  golf 
at  the  Country  Club  and  when  some  one  brought 
out  the  score  to  us  we  dropped  our  clubs,  clasped 
hands  and  executed  an  Indian  dance,  shout- 
ing "Rah  I  rah!  rah!  Pennsylvania  I"  Why,  old 
staid  philosopher,  should  the  leading  surgeon  of 
the  city,  the  president  of  its  oldest  and  largest 
trust  company,  and  the  district  attorney  of  Phila- 
delphia, thus  jump  for  joy  and  become  boys  once 
more? 

"Recurring  to  the  game  of  1884  I  can  hear  the 
cheers  of  the  University  still  ringing  in  my  ears 
when  we  returned  from  Harvard.  A  few  weeks 
later  our  team  went  up  to  Princeton  to  see  the 
Harvard-Princeton  match  and  I  recall,  as  though 
it  were  yesterday,  Alex  Moffat  kicking  five  goals 
against  Appleton's  team,  three  of  them  with  the 
right  and  two  with  the  left  foot.  No  other  player 
I  ever  knew  or  heard  of  was  so  ambipedextrous 
(if  I  may  use  the  word)  as  Alex  Moffat.  I 
remember  walking  in  from  the  field  with  Har- 
vard's captain,  and  he  said  to  me  'Moffat  is  a 
phenomenon.'     Truly  he  was." 


CHAPTER  VII 

HEROES  OF  THE  PAST— GEORGE 
WOODRUFF'S  STORY 

ENTHUSIASTIC  George  Woodruff 
tells  of  his  football  experiences  in  the 
following  words: 
"I  went  to  Yale  a  green  farmer  boy  who  had 
never  heard  of  the  college  game  of  football  un- 
til I  arrived  at  New  Haven  to  take  my  exami- 
nations in  the  fall  of  '85.  Incidentally  I  made 
the  team  permanently  the  second  day  I  was  on 
the  field,  having  scored  against  the  varsity  from 
the  middle  of  the  field  in  three  successive  runs; 
whereas  the  varsity  was  not  able  to  score  against 
the  scrub.  I  was  used  perhaps  more  times  than 
any  other  man  in  running  with  the  ball  up  to 
a  very  severe  injury  to  my  knee  in  the  fall  of 
'87,  just  a  week  and  a  day  before  the  Prince- 
ton game,  from  which  time,  until  I  left  college 
(although  I  played  in  all  of  the  championship 
games)  I  was  not  able  to  run  with  the  ball, 
actually  being  on  the  field  only  two  days  after 
my  injury  in  '87  until  the  end  of  the  '88  sea- 
son, outside  of  the  days  on  which  I  played  the 
games.  I  tried  not  to  play  in  the  fall  of  '88  be- 
cause of  the  condition  of  my  knee  and  because  I 

93 


94  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

was  Captain  of  the  Crew,  but  Pa  Corbin  insisted 
that  I  must  play  in  the  championship  games  or 
he  would  not  row :  and  of  course  I  acceded  to  his 
wishes  thereby  secretly  gratifying  my  own. 

"And  now  about  the  men  with  whom  I  played: 
Kid  Wallace  pla5^ed  end  the  entire  four  years. 
Wallace  was  a  great  amusement  and  comfort  to 
his  fellow-players  on  account  of  his  general  de- 
sire to  put  on  the  appearance  of  a  'tough'  of 
the  worst  description;  whereas  he  was  at  heart  a 
very  fine  and  gallant  gentleman. 

"Pudge  Heffelfinger  played  the  other  guard 
from  me  in  my  last  year  and  when  he  first  ap- 
peared on  the  Yale  field  he  was  a  ridiculous  ex- 
ample of  a  rawboned  Westerner,  being  6  feet  4 
inches  tall  and  weighing  only  about  178  pounds. 
During  the  season,  however,  the  exercise  and  good 
food  at  the  training  table  caused  Heffelfinger  to 
gain  25  pounds  of  solid  bone,  sinew  and  muscle. 
The  green  days  of  his  first  year  in  1888  were  re- 
membered against  him  in  an  affectionate  way  by 
the  use  of  Yale  for  several  years  of  'Pa'  Cor- 
bin's  oft  reiterated  expression  brought  forth  by 
Pudge's  greenness,  which  would  cause  'Pa'  to 
exclaim;  'Darn  you,  Heffelfinger  1'  with  great 
emphasis  on  the  'Darn.' 

"Billy  Graves  played  on  the  team  during  most 
of  these  years,  he  being  the  most  graceful 
football  runner  I  have  ever  seen,  unless  it  were 
Stevenson  of  Pennsylvania. 

"Lee  McClung  was  a  harder  worker  in  his  run- 


GEORGE  WOODRUFF'S  STORY   95 

ing  than  most  of  the  men  named  above,  but  tre- 
mendously effective.  He  is  accredited  with  be- 
ing the  first  man  who  intentionally  started  as 
though  to  make  an  end  run  and  then  turned 
diagonally  back  through  the  line,  in  order  to 
open  up  the  field  through  which  he  then  ran  with 
incredible  speed  and  determination.  This  was 
one  of  the  first  premeditated  plays  of  a  trick  na- 
ture which  ultimately  led  to  my  invention  of  the 
delayed  pass  which  works  upon  the  same  prin- 
ciple only  with  incalculably  greater  ease  and 
effect. 

"The  game  with  Princeton  in  the  Fall  of  1885 
clings  to  my  memorj'-  beyond  any  other  game  I 
ever  played  in,  because  it  was  the  first  real  cham- 
pionship game  of  my  career,  and  I  had  not  as  yet 
fully  developed  into  an  actual  player.  The  loss 
of  this  game  to  Princeton  in  the  last  six  minutes 
of  playing  because  of  the  Lamar  run — Yale  had 
Princeton  5  to  0 — has  been  a  nightmare  to  most 
of  the  Yale  players  ever  since.  I  attribute  the 
fact  that  Yale  only  had  five  points  to  two  hard- 
luck  facts. 

"Through  my  own  intensity  at  the  beginning 
of  the  game  I  over-ran  Harry  Beecher  on  my 
first  signal,  causing  the  signal  giver  to  think 
that  I  was  rattled  so  that,  although  I  afterward 
ran  with  the  ball  some  25  or  30  times  with  con- 
sistent gains  of  from  2  to  5  yards  under  the  al- 
most impossible  conditions  known  as  the  'punt 
rush,'  the  signal  for  my  regular  play  was  not 


96  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

given  again  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  my  ground 
gaining  had  been  one  of  the  steadiest  features  of 
the  Yale  play  throughout  the  year,  and  because 
Watkinson  was  allowed  to  try  ^ye  times  in  suc- 
cession for  goals  from  the  field,  close  up,  only  one 
of  which  he  made ;  whereas  Billy  Bull  could  prob- 
ably have  made  at  least  three  out  of  the  five ;  but 
of  course  Bull's  ability  was  not  so  well-known 
then.  The  direct  cause  of  the  Lamar  run  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  all  the  fast  runners  and 
good  tacklers  of  the  Yale  line  were  down  the 
field  under  a  kick,  so  close  to  Toler,  the  other 
half-back  from  Lamar,  that  when  Toler  muffed 
the  ball  so  egregiously  that  it  bounded  over  our 
heads  some  15  yards,  Lamar  who  had  not  come 
across  the  field  to  back  Toler  up,  had  been  able  to 
get  the  ball  on  the  bound  and  on  the  dead  run, 
thus  having  in  front  of  him  all  the  Princeton  team 
except  Toler;  whereas  the  Yale  team  was  de- 
pleted by  the  fact  that  Wallace,  Corwin,  Gill 
(who  had  come  on  as  a  substitute)  myself  and 
even  Harry  Beecher  from  quarterback,  had  run 
down  the  field  to  within  a  few  yards  of  Toler  be- 
fore he  muffed  the  ball.  We  all  turned  and 
watched  Lamar  run,  being  so  petrified  that  not 
one  of  us  took  a  step,  and,  although  the  scene  is 
photographed  on  my  memory,  I  cannot  see  one 
of  all  the  Yale  players  making  a  tackle  at 
Lamar.  Hodge,  the  Princeton  quarterback, 
kicked  the  goal,  thus  making  the  score  6  to  5  and 
winning    the    game.     The    outburst    from    the 


GEORGE  WOODRUFF'S  STORY   97 

Princeton  contingent  at  the  end  of  the  game  was 
one  of  the  most  heartfelt  and  spontaneous  I  have 
ever  heard  or  seen.  I  understand  that  practi- 
cally all  of  Lamar's  uniform  was  torn  into  pieces 
and  handed  out  to  the  various  Princeton  girls  and 
their  escorts  who  had  come  to  New  Haven  to  see 
the  game. 

"The  Yale-Princeton  game  in  the  fall  of  1886 
was  a  remarkable  as  well  as  a  disagreeable 
one.  We  played  at  Princeton  when  the  field 
at  that  time  combined  the  elements  of  sticki- 
ness and  shpperiness  to  an  unbelievable  extent. 
It  rained  heavily  throughout  the  game  and  the 
proverbial  'hog  on  ice'  could  not  have  slipped 
and  slathered  around  worse  than  all  the  players 
on  both  sides.  There  was  a  long  controversy 
about  who  should  act  as  referee  (in  those  days 
we  had  only  one  official)  and  after  a  delay  of 
about  an  hour  from  the  time  the  game  should 
have  begun,  Harris,  a  Princeton  man,  was  al- 
lowed to  do  the  officiating.  Bob  Corwin,  who 
was  end-rush,  only  second  to  Wallace  in  his 
ability,  was  captain  of  the  team. 

"Yale  made  one  touchdown  which  seemed  to  be 
perfectly  fair  but  which  was  disallowed;  and 
later,  in  the  second  half,  Watkinson  for  Yale 
kicked  the  ball  so  that  it  rolled  across  the  goal 
line,  whereupon  a  crowd,  which  was  standing 
around  the  ropes  (in  those  days  there  was  prac- 
tically no  grandstand)  crowded  onto  the  field 
where  Savage,  the  Princeton  fullback  had  fallen 


98  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

on  the  ball.  The  general  report  is  that  Kid 
Wallace  held  Savage  while  Corwin  pulled  the 
slippery  ball  away  from  him,  and  that  when  Har- 
ris, the  referee,  was  able  to  dig  his  way  through 
the  crowd  he  found  Corwin  on  the  ball,  and  in 
view  of  the  great  fuss  that  had  been  made  about 
his  previous  decision,  was  not  able  to  credit 
Savage's  statement  that  he  (Savage)  had  said 
'down'  long  before  the  Yale  ends  had  been  able 
to  pull  the  ball  away  from  him.  The  result  was 
that  the  touchdown  was  allowed.  Thereupon 
the  crowd  all  came  onto  the  field  and  we  were 
not  able  to  clear  it  for  some  10  or  15  minutes, 
so  that  there  was  not  time  enough  to  finish  the 
full  45  minutes  of  the  second-half  of  the  game 
before  dark.  This  led  to  some  bitter  discussion 
between  Yale  and  Princeton  as  to  whether  the 
game  had  been  played.  This  discussion  was  set- 
tled by  the  intercollegiate  committee  in  declaring 
that  Yale  had  won  the  game,  4  to  0,  but  that  no 
championship  should  be  awarded.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  note,  however,  that  all  the  gold  footballs 
worn  by  the  Yale  players  of  this  game  are 
marked  'Champions,  1886.' 

"A  word  about  the  Princeton  men  who  were 
playing  during  my  four  years  at  college. 

"Irvine  was  a  fine  steady  player  and  his  suc- 
cess at  Mercersburg  is  in  keeping  with  the  prom- 
ise shown  in  his  football  days. 

"Hector  Cowan  played  against  me  three  years 
at  guard  and  he  fully  deserved  the  great  repu- 


GEORGE  WOODRUFF'S  STORY   99 

tation  he  had  at  that  time  in  every  particular  of 
the  game,  including  running  with  the  ball. 

"George  was  one  of  the  very  best  center  rushes 
I  have  ever  seen  and  probably  would  have  made 
a  great  player  elsewhere  along  the  line  if  he  had 
been  reheved  from  the  obscuring  effect  of  play- 
ing center  at  the  time  a  center  had  no  particular 
opportunity  to  show  his  abihty. 

"Snake  Ames  for  some  reason  was  never  able 
to  do  anything  against  the  Yale  team  during  the 
time  I  was  playing,  but  his  work  in  some  later 
games  that  I  saw  and  in  which  I  officiated,  con- 
vinced me  that  he  was  worthy  of  his  nickname, 
because  there  are  only  a  few  men  who  are 
able  to  wind  their  way  through  an  entire  field 
of  opponents  with  as  much  celerity  and  effect  as 
Ames  would  display  time  after  time. 

"In  the  fall  of  '86  Yale  beat  Harvard  29  to  4, 
with  great  ease,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  injuries 
to  Yale  players,  could  probably  have  made  it  50 
or  60  to  0.  iMost  of  the  Yale  players  came  out 
of  the  game  with  very  disgraceful  marks  of  the 
roughness  of  the  Harvard  men.  I  had  a  badly 
broken  nose  from  an  intentional  blow.  George 
Carter  had  a  cut  requiring  eight  stitches  above 
his  eye.  The  tackle  next  to  me  had  a  face  which 
was  pounded  black  and  blue  all  over.  To  the 
credit  of  the  Harvard  men  I  will  say  that  they 
came  to  the  box  at  the  theater  that  night  occu- 
pied by  the  Yale  team  and  apologized  for  what 
they  had  done,  stating  that  they  had  been  coached 


100  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

to  play  in  that  way  and  that  they  would  never 
again  allow  anybody  to  coach  who  would  try  to 
have  the  Harvard  players  use  intentionally  un- 
fair roughness. 

"When  I  entered  Pennsylvania  I  found  a  more 
or  less  happy-go-lucky  brilliant  man,  Arthur 
Knipe,  who  was  not  considered  fully  worthy  of 
being  on  even  the  Pennsylvania  teams  of  those 
days,  namely :  teams  that  were  being  beaten  60  or 
70  to  0  by  Yale,  Harvard  and  Princeton.  I 
succeeded  in  arousing  the  interest  of  Knipe,  and 
although  in  my  mind  he  never,  during  his  active 
membership  of  the  Pennsylvania  team,  came  up 
to  75  per  cent,  of  his  true  playing  value,  he  was, 
even  so,  undoubtedly  the  peer  of  any  man  that 
ever  played  football.  Knipe  was  brilliant  but 
careless,  and  was  at  once  the  joy  and  despair  of 
any  coach  who  took  an  interest  in  his  men.  He 
captained  the  1894  Pennsylvania  team  with 
which  I  sprung  the  'guards  back'  and  'short  end 
defense.' 

"Jack  Minds  I  remember  seeing,  in  1893, 
standing  around  on  the  field  as  a  member  of  the 
second  or  third  scrub  teams.  I  suppose  he  would 
not  have  been  invited  to  preliminary  training 
except  for  his  own  courage  and  pertinacity  which 
caused  him  to  demand  to  be  taken.  With  no 
thought  that  he  could  possibly  make  the  team  I 
gradually  found  myself  using  him  in  1894,  until 
he  was  a  fixture  at  tackle,  although  he  dodged 
the  scales  throughout  the  entire  fall  in  order  that 


GEORGE  WOODRUFF'S  STORY  101 

I  might  not  know  that  he  only  weighed  162 
pounds. 

"I  will  not  enlarge  upon  the  ability  of  men  like 
George  Brooke,  Wyhe  Woodruff,  Buck  Whar- 
ton, Joe  McCracken,  John  Outland  and  others, 
but  anybody  speaking  of  Pennsylvania  players 
during  the  late  '90's  cannot  pass  by  Truxton 
Hare,  who  stands  forth  as  a  Chevalier  Bayard 
among  the  ranks  of  college  football  players. 
Hare  entered  Pennsylvania  in  '97  from  St.  Paul 
without  any  thought  that  he  was  likely  to  be  even 
a  mediocre  player.  He  weighed  only  about  178 
pounds  at  the  time  and  was  immature.  Al- 
though his  wonderfully  symmetrical  build,  in 
which  he  looked  like  a  magnified  Billy  Graves, 
kept  him  from  looking  as  large  as  Heffelfinger 
at  his  greatest  development  at  Yale,  Hare  was 
certainly  ten  pounds  heavier  in  fine  condition 
than  Heffelfinger  was  before  the  latter  left 
Yale." 


CHAPTER  VIII 
ANECDOTES  AND  RECOLLECTIONS 

IN  the  latter  eighties  the  signal  from  the  quar- 
terback to  the  center  for  putting  the  ball  in 
play  was  a  pressure  of  the  fingers  and  thumb 
on  the  hips  of  the  center.  In  the  '89  cham- 
pionship game  between  Yale  and  Princeton, 
Yale  had  been  steadily  advancing  the  ball  and  it 
looked  as  if  they  had  started  out  for  a  march  up 
the  field  for  a  touchdown.  In  those  days  sig- 
nals were  not  rattled  off  with  the  speed  that  they 
are  given  now,  and  the  quarterback  often  took 
some  time  to  consider  his  next  play,  during  which 
time  he  might  stand  in  any  position  back  of  the 
line. 

Playing  right  guard  on  the  Princeton  team 
was  J.  R.  Thomas,  more  familiarly  known  as 
Long  Tommy.  He  was  six  feet  six  or  seven 
inches  tall  and  built  more  longitudinally  than 
otherwise.  It  occurred  to  Janeway,  who  was 
playing  left  guard,  that  Long  Tommy's  great 
length  and  reach  might  be  used  to  great  advan- 
tage when  occasion  offered. 

He,  therefore,  took  occasion  to  say  to  Thomas 
during  a  lull  in  the  game,  "If  you  get  a  chance, 

102 


RECOLLECTIONS  103 

reach  over  when  Wurtemburg — the  Yale  quarter 
— isn't  looking,  and  pinch  the  Yale  center  so  that 
he  will  put  the  ball  in  play  when  the  backs  are 
not  expecting  it."  The  Yale  center,  by  the  way, 
was  Bert  Hanson.  Yale  continued  to  advance 
the  ball  on  two  or  three  successive  plays  and 
finally  had  a  third  down  with  two  yards  to  gain. 
At  this  critical  moment  the  looked-for  oppor- 
tunity arrived.  Wurtemburg  called  a  consulta- 
tion of  the  other  backs  to  decide  on  the  next 
play.  While  the  consultation  was  going  on 
Long  Tommy  reached  over  and  gentty  nipped 
Hanson  where  he  was  expecting  the  signal. 
Hanson  immediately  put  the  ball  in  play  and  as 
a  result  Janeway  broke  through  and  fell  on  the 
ball  for  a  ten  j^ards  gain  and  first  down  for 
Princeton. 

To  say  that  the  Yale  team  were  frantic  with 
surprise  and  rage  would  be  putting  it  mildly. 
Poor  Hanson  came  in  for  some  pretty  rough 
flagging.  He  swore  by  all  that  was  good  and 
holy  that  he  had  received  the  signal  to  put  the 
ball  in  play,  which  was  true.  But  Wurtemburg 
insisted  that  he  had  not  given  the  signal.  There 
was  no  time  for  wrangling  at  that  moment  as  the 
referee  ordered  the  game  to  proceed. 

Yale  did  not  learn  how  that  ball  came  to  be  put 
in  play  until  some  time  after  the  game,  which  was 
the  last  of  the  season,  when  Long  Tommy  hap- 
pening to  meet  up  with  Hanson  and  several 
other  Yale  players  in  a  New  York  restaurant, 


104  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

told  with  great  glee  how  he  gave  the  signal  that 
stopped  Yale's  triumphant  advance. 

[Numerals  and  combinations  of  numbers  were 
not  used  as  signals  until  1889.  Prior  to  that, 
phrases,  catch-words  and  gestures  were  the  only 
modes  of  indicating  the  plays  to  be  used.  For 
instance,  the  signal  for  Hector  Cowan  of  Prince- 
ton to  run  with  the  ball  was  an  entreaty  by 
the  captain,  who  in  those  days  usually  gave  the 
signals,  addressed  to  the  team,  to  gain  an  uneven 
number  of  yards.  Therefore  the  expression, 
"Let's  gain  three,  five  or  seven  yards,"  would 
indicate  to  the  team  that  Cowan  was  to  take  the 
ball,  and  an  effort  was  made  to  open  up  the  line 
for  him  at  the  point  at  which  he  usually  bucked 
it. 

Irvine,  the  other  tackle,  ran  with  the  ball  when 
an  even  number  of  yards  was  called  for. 

For  a  kick  the  signal  was  any  phrase  which 
asked  a  question,  as  for  instance,  "How  many 
yards  to  gain?  " 

One  of  the  signals  used  by  Corbin,  captain  of 
Yale,  to  indicate  a  certain  play,  was  the  removal 
of  his  cap.  They  wore  caps  in  those  days.  A 
variation  of  this  play  was  indicated  if  in  addition 
to  removing  his  cap  he  expectorated  emphati- 
cally. 

Hodge,  the  Princeton  quarterback,  noticing 
the  cap  signals,  determined  that  he  would  handi- 
cap the  captain's  strategy  by  stealing  his  cap. 


RECOLLECTIOXS  105 

He  called  the  team  back  and  very  earnestly  im- 
pressed upon  them  the  advantage  that  would  ac- 
crue if  any  of  them  could  surreptitiously  get  pos- 
session of  Captain  Corbin's  head-covering.  Cor- 
bin,  however,  kept  such  good  watch  on  his  prop- 
erty that  no  one  was  able  to  purloin  it. 

Sport  Donnelly,  who  played  left  end  on 
Princeton's  '89  team,  was  perhaps  one  of  the 
roughest  players  that  ever  went  into  a  game,  and 
at  the  same  time  one  of  the  best  ends  that  ever 
went  down  the  field  under  a  kick. 

Donnelly  was  one  of  the  few  men  that  could 
play  his  game  up  to  the  top  notch  and  at  the  same 
time  keep  his  opponent  harassed  to  the  point  of 
frenzy  by  a  continual  line  of  conversation  in  a 
sarcastic  vein  which  invariably  got  the  opposing 
player  rattled. 

He  would  say  or  do  something  to  the  man  op- 
posite him  which  would  goad  that  individual  to 
fury  and  then  when  retaliation  was  about  to  come 
in  the  shape  of  a  blow,  he  would  yell  "JNIr.  Um- 
pire," and  in  many  instances  the  player  would  be 
ruled  off  the  field. 

Donnelly's  line  of  conversation  in  a  Yale 
game,  addressed  to  Billy  Rhodes  who  played  op- 
posite him,  would  be  somewhat  as  follows: 

"Ah,  Mr.  Rhodes,  I  see  INIr.  Gill  is  about  to 
run  with  the  ball." 

Just  then  Gill  would  come  tearing  around 
from  his  position  at  tackle  and  Donnelly  would 
remark : 


106  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

*'Well,  excuse  me,  Mr.  Rhodes,  for  a  moment, 
I've  got  to  tackle  Mr.  Gill." 

He  would  then  sidestep  in  such  a  manner  as  to 
elude  Rhodes's  manoeuvres  to  prevent  him  break- 
ing through,  and  stop  Gill  for  a  loss. 

Hector  Cowan,  who  was  captain  of  the  Prince- 
ton '88  team  was  another  rough  player.  In  those 
days  the  men  in  the  heat  of  playing  would  indulge 
in  exclamations  hardly  fit  for  a  drawing  room. 
In  fact  most  of  the  time  the  words  used  would 
have  been  more  in  place  among  a  lot  of  pirates. 

Cowan  was  no  exception  to  the  rule  so  far  as 
giving  vent  to  his  feelings  was  concerned,  but  he 
invariably  used  one  phrase  to  do  so.  He  was  a 
fellow  of  sterling  character  and  was  studying  for 
the  ministry.  Not  even  the  excitement  of  the 
moment  could  make  him  forget  himself  to  the  ex- 
tent of  the  other  players,  and  where  their  lan- 
guage would  have  to  be  represented  in  print 
by  a  lot  of  dashes.  Cowan's  could  be  printed 
in  the  blackest  face  type  without  offending  any- 
one. 

It  was  amusing  to  see  this  big  fellow,  worked 
up  to  the  point  of  explosion,  wave  his  arms  and 
exclaim : 

''Oh,  sugar!" 

It  would  bring  a  roar  of  mock  protest  from  the 
other  players,  and  threats  to  report  him  for  his 
rough  talk.  While  the  men  made  joke  of  Hec- 
tor's talk  they  had  a  thorough  respect  for  his 
sterling  principles. 


RECOLLECTIONS  107 

VICTORIOUS   DAYS   AT   YALE 

During  the  early  days  of  football  Yale's  record 
was  an  enviable  one.  The  schedules  included, 
Yale,  Harvard,  Princeton,  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania, Rutgers,  Columbia,  Stevens  Institute 
of  Technology,  Dartmouth,  Amherst,  and  Uni- 
versity of  Michigan. 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  since  the  forma- 
tion of  the  Football  Association,  in  1879  to  1889, 
Yale  had  been  awarded  the  championship  flag 
five  times,  Princeton  one,  Harvard  none.  Yale 
had  won  95  out  of  98  games,  having  lost  three 
to  Princeton,  one  to  Harvard  and  one  to  Co- 
lumbia. Since  1878  Yale  had  lost  but  one  game 
and  that  by  one  point.  This  was  the  Tilly 
Lamar  game,  which  Princeton  won.  In  points 
Yale  had  scored,  since  points  began  to  be 
counted,  3001  to  her  opponents'  56;  in  goals  530 
to  19  and  in  touchdo^vns  219  to  9,  which  is  truly 
a  unique  record. 

It  was  during  this  period  that  Pa  Corbin,  a 
country  boy,  entered  Yale  and  in  his  senior  year 
became  captain  of  the  famous  '88  team.  This 
brilliant  eleven  had  a  wonderfully  successful  sea- 
son and  Yale  men  now  began  to  take  stock  and 
really  appreciate  the  remarkable  record  that  was 
hers  upon  the  field  of  football. 

In  commemoration  of  these  victories,  Yale  men 
gathered  from  far  and  near,  crowding  Delmon- 
ico's  banquet  hall  to  the  limit  to  pay  tribute  to 
Yale  athletic  successes. 


108  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

*'And  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  people  heard 
the  sound  of  the  trumpet,  and  the  people  shouted 
with  a  great  shout  .  .  .  they  took  the  city." 

In  a  room  beautifully  decorated  with  Yale 
banners  and  trophies  four  hundred  Elis  sat  down 
to  enjoy  the  Bulldog  Feast,  and  there  honored 
and  cheered  to  the  echo  the  great  football  tradi- 
tions of  Yale  and  the  men  who  made  her  famous 
by  so  vast  a  margin. 

Chauncey  M.  Depew  in  his  address  that  even- 
ing stated  that  for  the  only  time  in  one  hundred 
and  eighty-eight  years  the  alumni  of  Yale  met 
solely  to  celebrate  her  athletic  triumphs. 

Pa  Corbin,  captain  of  the  victorious  '88  foot- 
ball team,  responded,  as  follows: 

"Again  we  have  met  the  enemy  and  he  is 
ours.  In  fact  we  have  been  successful  so  many 
times  there  is  something  of  a  sameness  about  it. 
It  is  a  good  deal  like  what  the  old  man  said  about 
leading  a  good  life.  It  is  monotonous,  but  sat- 
isfactory. There  are  perhaps  a  few  special 
reasons  why  we  won  the  championship  this  year, 
but  the  general  principles  are  the  same,  which 
have  always  made  us  win.  First,  by  following 
out  certain  traditions,  which  are  handed  down 
to  us  year  by  year  from  former  team  captains 
and  coaches ;  the  necessity  of  advancing  each  year 
beyond  the  point  attained  the  year  before;  the 
mastering  of  the  play  of  our  opponents  and  plan- 
ning our  game  to  meet  it.  Second,  by  the  hard, 
conscientious  work,  such  as  only  a  Yale  team 


RECOLLECTIONS  109 

knows  how  to  do.  Third,  by  going  on  to  the 
field  with  that  high  courage  and  determination 
which  has  always  been  characteristic  of  the  Yale 
eleven,  something  like  the  spirit  of  the  ancient 
Greeks  who  w^ent  into  battle  with  the  decision  to 
return  with  their  shields  or  on  them.  Some- 
times they  have  been  animated  with  the  spirit 
which  knows  no  defeat,  like  the  httle  drummer 
boy,  who  was  ordered  by  Napoleon  in  a  crisis  in 
the  battle  to  beat  a  retreat.  The  boy  did  not 
move.  'Boy,  beat  a  retreat.'  He  did  not  stir, 
but  at  a  third  command,  he  straightened  up  and 
said:  'Sire,  I  know  not  how,  but  I  can  beat  a 
charge  that  will  w^ake  the  dead.'  He  did  so  and 
the  troops  moved  forward  and  were  victorious. 
It  is  this  same  spirit  which  in  many  cases  has 
seemed  to  anunate  our  men. 

"But  our  victory  is  due  in  a  great  measure  this 
year  to  a  man  who  knows  more  about  football 
than  any  man  in  this  country,  who  gave  much  of 
his  valuable  time  in  continually  advising  and  in 
actual  coaching  on  the  field.  I  refer  to  Walter 
Camp,  and  as  long  as  his  spirit  hovers  over 
the  Yale  campus  and  our  traditions  for  football 
playing  are  religiously  followed  out  there  is  no 
reason  why  Yale  should  not  remain,  as  she  al- 
ways has  been,  at  the  head  of  American  foot- 
ball." 

Those  were  Corbin's  recollections  the  year  of 
that  great  victory.  Time  has  not  dimmed  them, 
nor  has  his  memory  faded.     Rather  the  opposite. 


110  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

From  what  follows  you  will  note  that  a  woman 
now  enters  the  camp  of  the  Eli  coaching  staff, 
mention  of  whom  was  not  made  in  Corbin's 
speech  of  '88. 

Pa  Corbin  prides  himself  in  the  fact  that 
twenty-five  years  afterward  he  brought  his  old 
team  mates  together  and  gave  them  a  dinner. 
The  menu  card  tells  of  the  traditional  coaching 
system  of  Corbin's  great  team  of  '88  and  beneath 
the  picture  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walter  Camp  ap- 
pears in  headlines: 

"head    coaches   of    the   YALE    FOOTBALL 
TEAM   OF    1888" 

"The  head-coaches  of  the  Yale  team,"  says 
Corbin,  "were  really  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walter  Camp. 
They  had  been  married  in  the  summer  of  1888 
and  were  staying  with  relatives  in  New  Haven. 
Mr.  Camp  had  just  begun  his  connection  with  a 
New  Haven  concern  which  occupied  most  of  his 
time.  Mrs.  Camp  was  present  at  Yale  Field 
every  day  at  the  football  practice  and  made  care- 
ful note  of  the  plays,  the  players  and  anything 
that  should  be  observed  in  connection  with  the 
style  of  play  and  the  individual  weakness  or 
strength.  She  gave  her  observations  in  detail 
to  her  husband  at  supper  every  night  and  when 
I  arrived  Mr.  Camp  would  be  thoroughly  fa- 
miliar with  that  daj^'s  practice  and  would  be 
ready  for  suggestions  as  to  plays  and  players  to 
be  put  in  operation  the  next  day. 


RECOLLECTIONS  111 

"This  method  was  pursued  during  the  entire 
season  and  was  practically  the  only  systematic 
coaching  that  the  team  received.  Of  course 
there  were  several  old  players  like  Tompkins  '84, 
Terry  '85  and  Knapp  '82,  who  came  to  the  field 
frequently. 

"At  that  time  it  was  customary  for  me  to  snap 
the  ball  back  to  the  quarter  with  my  foot.  By 
standing  the  ball  on  end  and  exercising  a  certain 
pressure  on  the  same  it  was  possible  to  have  it 
bound  into  the  quarter-back's  hands.  It  was 
necessary,  therefore,  for  me  to  attend  to  this  de- 
tail as  well  as  to  block  my  opponent  and  make 
holes  through  the  line  for  the  backs. 

"While  the  rules  of  the  game  at  that  time  pro- 
vided for  an  Umpire  as  well  as  a  Referee,  the 
fact  that  there  was  no  neutral  zone  and  players 
were  in  close  contact  with  each  other  on  the  line 
of  scrimmage  gave  opportunity  for  more  rough- 
ness than  is  customary  at  the  present  time. 
Neither  were  the  officials  so  strict  about  their 
rulings. 

"Prior  to  this  time  it  had  been  customary  to 
give  word  signals  for  the  different  plays,  these 
being  certain  words  which  were  used  in  various 
sentences  relating  to  football  and  the  progress 
of  the  game.  As  center,  I  was  so  tall  that  a 
system  of  sign  signals  was  devised  which  I  used 
entirely  in  the  Princeton  game,  and  the  oppo- 
nents, from  the  talk,  which  continued  as  usual, 
supposed  that  word  signals  were  being  used  and 


112  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

were  entirely  ignorant  of  the  sign  signals  during 
the  progress  of  the  game.  The  pulling  of  the 
visor  of  my  cap  was  a  kick  signal.  Everything 
that  I  did  with  my  left  hand  in  touching  differ- 
ent parts  of  my  uniform  on  the  left  side  from 
collar  to  shoe  lace  meant  a  signal  for  a  play  at 
different  points  on  the  left  side  of  the  line.  Sim- 
ilar signals  with  my  right  hand  meant  similar 
plays  on  the  right  side  of  the  line.  The  system 
worked  perfectly  and  there  was  no  case  of  missed 
signal.  The  next  year  the  use  of  numbers  for 
signals  began,  and  has  continued  until  the  pres- 
ent date. 

"The  work  of  the  Yale  team  during  the  season 
was  very  much  retarded  by  injuries  to  their  best 
players.  The  papers  were  so  filled  with  these 
accounts  that  the  general  opinion  of  the  public 
was  that  the  team  would  be  in  poor  physical  con- 
dition to  meet  Princeton.  As  luck  would  have 
it,  however,  the  invalids  reached  a  convalescing 
stage  in  time  to  enter  the  Wesleyan  game  on  the 
Saturday  before  the  one  to  be  played  with 
Princeton  in  fairly  good  condition. 

"Head  Coach  Camp  and  I  attended  the 
Princeton-Harvard  game  at  Princeton  on  that 
day.  Upon  our  return  to  New  York  we  received 
a  telegram  from  Mrs.  Camp  to  the  effect  that  the 
score  made  by  Yale  against  Wesleyan  was  105 
to  nothing.  One  of  the  graduate  coaches  was 
much  impressed  with  the  opportunity  to  turn  a 
few  pennies  and  he  requested  that  the  informa- 


RECOLLECTIONS  113 

tion  be  kept  quiet  until  he  could  see  a  few  Prince- 
ton men.  The  result  was  that  he  negotiated  the 
small  end  of  several  stakes  at  long  odds  against 
Yale.  When  the  news  of  the  Wesleyan  score 
was  made  public  the  next  mornmg,  the  opinion 
of  the  public  changed  somewhat  as  to  the  merit 
of  the  team.  It  nevertheless  went  into  the 
Princeton  game  as  not  being  the  favorite  and  in 
the  opinion  of  disinterested  persons  it  was  ex- 
pected that  Princeton  would  win  handsomely." 

Cowan  the  great  has  this  to  say: 

*'I  happened  to  be  down  on  the  grounds  to 
watch  the  practice  just  a  few  days  before  the 
Yale  game.  They  did  not  have  enough  scrub  to 
make  a  good  defense.  Jim  Robinson  happened 
to  see  me  there  and  asked  me  to  play.  He  had 
asked  me  before,  and  I  had  always  refused,  but 
this  time  for  some  reason  I  accepted  and  he  took 
me  to  the  Club  house. 

"I  got  into  my  clothes.  The  shoes  were  about 
three  sizes  too  small.  That  day  I  played  guard 
opposite  Tracy  Harris.  I  played  well  enough 
so  that  they  wanted  me  to  come  down  the  next 
day,  as  they  said  they  wanted  good  practice. 
The  next  day  I  was  put  against  Captain  Bird, 
who  had  been  out  of  town  the  first  day  I  played. 
He  had  the  reputation  of  being  not  at  all  deli- 
cate in  the  way  he  handled  the  scrub  men  who 
played  against  him,  so  that  they  had  learned  to 
keep  away  from  him. 

"As  I  had  not  played  before,  I  did  not  know 


114  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

enough  to  be  afraid  of  him,  so  when  the  ball  was 
put  in  play  I  simply  charged  forward  at  the 
quarter-back  and  was  able  to  spoil  a  good  many 
of  his  plays.  I  heard  afterward  that  Bird  asked 
Jim  Robinson  who  that  damn  freshman  was  that 
played  against  him.  The  next  year  I  was  put 
in  Bird's  place  at  left  guard,  as  he  had  grad- 
uated and  fought  all  comers  for  the  place.  I  was 
never  put  on  the  scrub  again. 

"My  condition  when  in  Princeton  was  the  best. 
Having  been  raised  in  the  country,  I  knew  what 
hard  work  was  and  in  the  five  years  that  I  played 
football  I  never  left  the  field  on  account  of  in- 
jury either  in  practice  or  in  games  with  other 
teams. 

"It  is  a  great  thing  to  play  the  game  of  foot- 
ball as  hard  as  you  can.  I  never  deliberately 
went  to  do  a  man  up.  If  he  played  a  rough 
game,  I  simply  played  him  the  harder.  I  never 
struck  a  man  with  my  fist  in  the  game.  I  do  not 
remember  ever  losing  my  temper.  Perhaps  I 
did  not  have  temper  enough. 

"When  we  speak  of  a  football  man's  nerve  I 
would  say  that  any  man  who  stopped  to  think  of 
himself  is  not  worthy  of  the  game,  but  there  is 
one  man  who  seemed  to  me  had  a  httle  more 
nerve  than  the  average.  I  think  that  he  played 
for  two  years  on  our  scrub,  and  the  reason  that 
he  was  kept  there  so  long  was  on  account  of  his 
size.  He  only  weighed  about  138  pounds,  but 
for  all  the  time  he  played  on  the  scrub  he  played 


RECOLLECTIONS  115 

half-back  and  no  one  ever  saw  him  hesitate  to 
make  every  inch  that  he  could,  even  though  he 
knew  he  had  to  suffer  for  it. 

"In  the  fall  of  '88,  I  think,  Yup  Cook  played 
right  tackle  on  the  Varsity.  He  was  very 
strong  in  his  shoulders  and  arms  and  had  the 
grip  of  a  blacksmith.  Charming,  this  nervy  lit- 
tle 138-pounder,  played  left  half-back  on  the 
scrub.  When  he  went  into  the  line,  Cook  would 
take  him  by  the  shoulders  and  slam  him  into  the 
ground.  Om'  playing  field  at  the  time  was  very 
dry  and  the  ground  was  like  a  rock.  I  used  to 
feel  very  sorry  for  the  little  fellow.  On  his  el- 
bows and  hips  and  knees  he  had  raw  sores  as  big 
as  silver  dollars;  yet  he  never  hesitated  to  make 
the  attempt,  and  he  never  called  'down'  to  save 
himself  from  punishment.  The  next  year  he 
made  the  team.     Everybody  admired  him. 

"Football  men  must  never  forget  Tilly  Lamar, 
who  played  half-back.  I  think  he  was  one  of 
the  greatest  half-backs  and  one  who  would  have 
made  a  record  in  any  age  of  football.  I  have 
seen  him  go  through  a  line  with  nearly  every  man 
on  the  opposing  team  holding  him.  He  would 
break  loose  from  one  after  the  other. 

"Lamar  was  a  short,  chunky  fellow  and  ran 
close  to  the  gi-ound  with  his  back  level,  and  about 
the  only  place  one  could  get  hold  of  him  was 
his  shoulders.  He  would  always  turn  toward 
the  tackier  instead  of  away,  and  it  had  the  effect 
of  throwing  him  over  his  head.     The  only  way 


116  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

that  the  Yale  men  could  stop  him  at  all  was  to 
dive  clear  under  and  get  him  by  the  legs. 

"You  have  always  heard  a  lot  about  Snake 
Ames.  Snake  was  a  very  spectacular  player, 
but  one  very  hard  to  stop,  especially  in  an  open 
field.  He  was  very  fast  and  during  the  last  year 
of  his  playing  he  developed  a  duck  and  would 
go  clear  under  the  man  trying  to  tackle  him. 
This  he  did  by  putting  one  hand  flat  on  the 
ground,  so  that  his  body  would  just  miss  the 
ground ;  even  the  good  tacklers  that  Yale  always 
had  were  not  able  to  stop  him. 

"One  of  Princeton's  old  rehables  was  our  cen- 
ter, George,  '89.  He  may  not  have  got  much 
out  of  the  plaudits  from  the  grandstand,  but 
those  of  us  who  knew  what  he  was  doing  ap- 
preciated his  work.  We  always  felt  safe  as  to 
our  center.     He  was  steady  and  brilliant. 

"It  was  during  this  time  that  Yale  developed 
a  wedge  play  on  center.  There  were  no  re- 
strictions as  to  how  the  line  would  be  formed, 
and  Yale  would  put  all  their  guards  and  tackles 
and  ends  back,  forming  a  big  V  with  the  man 
with  the  ball  in  the  center. 

"Yale  had  been  able  to  knock  the  opposing 
center  out  of  the  way  till  they  struck  George. 
How  well  I  remember  this  giant,  who  was  able  to 
hold  the  whole  wedge  until  he  could  knock  the 
sides  in  and  pile  them  up  in  a  bunch.  Yale  soon 
gave  him  up  and  tried  to  gain  elsewhere. 

"I  must  tell  you  about  one  more  of  Prince- 


RECOLLECTIONS  117 

ton's  football  players.  Not  so  much  for  his 
playing,  but  for  his  head  work.  During  the 
years  that  I  was  captain,  in  the  fall  of  '88  the 
rules  were  changed  so  that  one  was  allowed  to 
block  an  opponent  only  by  the  body.  In  other 
words,  not  allowed  to  use  hands  or  arms  in  block- 
ing. It  was  Sam  Hodge,  who  played  end  and 
worked  out  what  is  known  to-day  as  boxing  the 
tackle.  You  can  understand  what  effect  it  would 
have  on  a  man  who  was  not  used  to  it.  The  end 
would  knock  the  opposing  tackle  and  send  him 
clear  out  of  the  play  and  the  half  would  keep  the 
end  out." 

I  once  asked  Cowan  to  tell  something  about 
his  experiences  and  men  he  played  against. 

"The  Yale  game  was  the  great  game  in  my 
days,"  he  said.  "Harvard  did  not  have  the  foot- 
ball instinct  as  well  developed  as  Yale,  and  it  is 
of  the  Yale  players  that  I  have  more  in  mind. 
One  man  I  will  always  remember  is  Gill,  who 
played  left  tackle  for  Yale  and  was  captain  dur- 
ing his  senior  year.  I  remember  him  because 
we  had  a  good  deal  to  do  with  each  other.  When 
I  ran  with  the  ball  I  had  to  get  around  him 
if  I  made  any  advance,  and  I  must  say  that 
I  found  it  no  easy  thing  to  do,  as  he  was  a  sure 
tackier.  And  when  he  ran  with  the  ball  I  had 
the  good  pleasure  of  cutting  his  runs  short. 

"Another  man  whom  I  consider  one  of  the 
gi-eatest  punters  of  the  past  is  Bull  of  Yale.  I 
have  stopped  a  good  many  punts  and  drop  kicks 


118  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

in  my  play,  but  I  do  not  remember  stopping  a 
single  kick  of  his,  and  it  was  not  because  I  did 
not  try.  He  kicked  with  his  left  foot,  and  with 
his  back  partially  towards  the  line  would  kick  a 
very  high  ball,  and  when  you  jumped  into  him — 
on  the  principle,  that  if  you  camiot  get  the  ball, 
get  the  man — you  had  the  sensation  of  striking 
something  hard." 

After  Cowan  had  stopped  playing  and  grad- 
uated he  acted  as  an  official  in  a  good  many  of 
the  big  games.     He  states  as  follows : 

"You  ask  about  my  own  experiences  as  an  of- 
ficial, and  for  experience  with  other  officials.  I 
always  got  along  pretty  well  as  a  referee.  There 
was  very  little  kicking  on  my  decisions.  But  I 
was  good  for  nothing  as  an  umpire.  I  could  not 
keep  my  eyes  off  the  ball,  so  did  not  see  the  fouls 
as  much  as  I  should.  You  boys  have  probably 
heard  how  I  was  ruled  off  the  field  in  a  Harvard- 
Princeton  game  in  '88.  I  remember  Terry  of 
Yale  who  refereed  that  game,  above  all  others. 
There  was  a  rule  at  that  time  that  intentional 
tackling  below  the  knees  was  a  foul  and  the  pen- 
alty was  disqualification.  Our  game  had  just 
started.  We  had  only  two  or  three  plays,  Har- 
vard having  the  ball.  I  broke  through  the  line 
and  tackled  the  man  as  soon  as  he  had  the  ball. 
I  had  him  around  the  legs  about  the  knees,  but 
in  his  efforts  to  get  away,  my  hands  slipped 
down.     But  at  the  moment  remembering  the  rule 


RECOLLECTIONS  119 

I  let  him  go,  and  for  this  I  was  disquahfied.  I 
might  say  that  we  lost  the  game,  for  we  did  not 
have  any  one  to  take  my  place.  I  had  always 
been  in  my  place  and  no  one  ever  thought  that 
I  would  not  be  there.  My  being  disqualified  was 
probably  the  reason  for  the  Princeton  defeat. 

"I  do  not  think  that  Terry  intended  to  be  un- 
fair. The  game  had  just  started,  and  he  was 
trying  to  be  strict,  and  without  stopping  to  think 
whether  it  was  intentional  or  not.  He  saw  the 
rule  being  broken  and  acted  on  the  impulse  of 
the  moment.  I  have  since  heard  that  Terry  felt 
very  bad  about  it  afterwards.  I  never  felt 
right  towards  him  until  I  had  a  chance  to  get 
even  with  him,  and  it  came  in  this  way.  The 
Crescent  Club  of  Brooklyn  played  the  Cleveland 
Athletic  Club  at  Cleveland.  George  and  myself 
were  invited  to  play  with  the  Cleveland  club,  and 
on  the  Crescent  team  were  Alex  JNIoffat  and 
Terry.  Terry  played  left  half  back,  and  right 
here  was  where  I  got  in  my  work.  When  Terry 
ran  with  the  ball  I  generally  had  a  chance  to  help 
him  meet  the  earth.  I  had  one  chance  in  par- 
ticular. Terry  got  the  ball  and  got  around  our 
end,  and  on  a  long  end  run  I  took  after  him, 
caught  him  from  the  side,  threw  him  over  my 
head  out  of  bounds.  As  we  were  both  running 
at  the  top  of  our  speed  he  hit  the  ground  with 
considerable  force.  I  felt  better  towards  him 
after  this  game." 


120  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

In  such  vivid  phrases  as  these  a  great  hero 
of  the  past  tells  of  things  well  worth  record- 
ing. 

Football  competition  is  very  strong.  There 
is  the  keenest  sort  of  rivalry  among  college 
teams.  There  is  very  little  love  on  the  part  of 
the  men  who  play  against  each  other  on  the  day 
of  the  contest,  but  after  the  game  is  all  over,  and 
these  men  meet  in  after  years,  very  strong  friend- 
ships are  often  formed.  Sometimes  these  op- 
ponents never  meet  again,  but  down  deep  in  their 
hearts  they  have  a  most  wholesome  regard  for 
each  other,  and  so  in  my  recollections  of  the  old 
heroes,  it  will  be  most  interesting  to  hear  in  their 
own  words,  something  about  their  own  achieve- 
ments and  experiences  in  the  games  they  played 
thirty  years  ago.  Hector  Cowan,  who  captained 
the  '88  team  at  Princeton,  played  three  years 
against  George  Woodruff  of  Yale.  It  has  been 
twenty-eight  years  since  that  wonderful  battle 
took  place  between  these  two  men.  It  is  still 
talked  about  by  people  who  saw  the  game,  and 
now  let  us  read  what  these  two  contestants  say 
about  each  other. 

*'0f  the  three  years  that  I  played  guard  I  met 
George  Woodruff  as  my  opponent,"  says  Cowan, 
"and  I  always  felt  that  he  was  the  strongest  man 
I  had  to  meet  and  one  who  was  always  on  the 
square.  He  played  the  game  for  what  it  was 
worth,  and  he  showed  later  that  he  could  teach  it 


RECOLLECTIONS  121 

to  others  by  the  way  he  taught  the  Penn'  team." 
Says  George  Woodruff,  delving  into  the  old 
days:  "Hector  Cowan  played  against  me  three 
years  at  guard,  and  he  fully  deserves  the  repu- 
tation he  had  at  that  time  in  every  particular  of 
the  game,  including  running  with  the  ball.  I 
doubt  whether  any  other  Princeton  man  was  ever 
more  able  to  make  ground  whenever  he  tried,  al- 
though Cowan  was  not  in  any  particular  a  showy 
player.  For  some  reason  or  other.  Cowan  seems 
to  have  had  a  reputation  for  rough  play,  which 
shows  how  untrue  traditions  can  be  handed  down. 
I  never  played  against  or  with  a  finer  and  stead- 
ier player,  or  one  more  free  from  the  remotest 
desire  to  play  roughly  for  the  sake  of  roughness 
itself." 

When  Heffelfinger's  last  game  had  been 
played  there  appeared  in  a  newspaper  of  Novem- 
ber 26th,  1888,  a  farewell  to  Heffelfinger. 

Good-by  Heff !  the  boys  will  miss  you. 
And  the  old  men,  too,  and  the  girls ; 

You  tossed  the  other  side  about  as  if  they  were  ten- 
pins; 

You  took  Little  Bliss  under  your  wing  and  he  ran  with 
the  ball  like  a  pilot  boat  by  the  Teutonic. 

You  used  eyes,  ears,  shoulders,  legs,  arms   and  head 
and  took  it  all  in. 

You're  the  best  football  rusher  America,  or  the  world, 
has  shown; 

And  best  of  all  you  never  slugged,  lost  your  temper  or 
did  anything  mean ; 

Oh  come  thou  mighty  one,  go  not  away, 


122  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

The  team  thou  must  not  fail: 
Stay  where  thou  art,  please,  Heffelfinger,  stay 

And  still  be  true  to  Yale — 
Linger,  yet  linger,  Heffelfinger,  a  truly  civil  engineer. 

His  trust  would  ne'er  surrender ;  unstrap  thy  trunks, 

Excuse  this  scalding  tear. 
Still  be  Yale's  best  defender !     Linger,  oh,  linger, 

Heffelfinger. 
Princeton  and  Harvard,  there  is  cause  to  fear 
Will  dance  joy's  double  shuffle  when  of  thy  Western 

flight  they  come  to  hear.     Stay  and  their  tempers 

ruffle.     Linger,  oh,  linger,  Heffelfinger. 

John  Cranston 

"My  inspiration  for  the  game  came  when  my 
country  cousin  returned  from  Exeter  and  told 
me  he  beheved  I  had  the  making  of  a  football 
player,"  says  John  Cranston,  who  was  Harvard's 
famous  old  center  and  former  coach.  "At  once 
I  pestered  him  with  all  kinds  of  questions  about 
the  requirements,  and  believed  that  some  day  I 
would  do  something.  I  shall  always  remember 
my  first  day  on  the  field  at  Exeter.  Lacking  the 
wherewithal  to  buy  the  regulation  suit,  I  ap- 
peared in  the  none  too  strong  blue  shirt  and  over- 
alls used  on  the  farm.  I  remember  too  that  it 
was  not  long  before  Harding  said :  '  Take  that 
young  countryman  to  the  gymnasium  before  he 
is  injured  for  life;  he  doesn't  know  which  way 
to  run  when  he  gets  the  ball;  he  doesn't  know 
the  game;  and  he  looks  too  thick  headed  to  play 
the  game  anywa3^' 

"As  boys  on  neighboring  farms  of  Western 


RECOLLECTIONS  123 

New  York,  three  of  us,  who  were  later  to  play 
on  different  college  teams,  hunted  skunks  and 
rabbits  together.  Had  we  been  on  the  same  team 
we  would  have  been  side  by  side.  Cook  was  a 
great  tackle  at  Princeton;  Reed  one  of  the  best 
guards  Cornell  ever  had;  and  I,  owing  to  some 
good  team  mates,  played  as  center  on  the  first 
Harvard  eleven  to  defeat  Yale.  It  is  said  that 
Cook  in  his  first  game  at  Exeter  grabbed  the 
ball  and  started  for  his  own  goal  for  a  touch- 
down, and  that  Reed  after  playing  the  long  after- 
noon in  the  game  which  Cornell  won,  asked  the 
Referee  which  side  was  victorious. 

"I  well  remember  that  at  Exeter  we  were 
planning  how  to  celebrate  our  victory  over  An- 
dover,  even  to  the  most  minute  detail.  We  knew 
who  was  to  ring  the  academy  and  church  bells  of 
the  town,  and  where  we  were  to  have  the  bonfire 
at  night.  We  were  deprived  of  that  pleasure  on 
account  of  the  great  playing  and  better  spirit  of 
the  Andover  team.  A  few  of  our  Exeter  men 
then  and  there  made  a  silent  compact  that  Exeter 
would  feel  a  little  better  after  another  contest 
with  Andover.  The  following  three  years  we 
defeated  Andover  by  large  scores. 

"Any  one  who  has  played  the  game  can 
recall  some  amusing  situations.  I  recall  the 
first  year  at  Harvard  when  we  were  playing 
against  the  Andover  team  that  suddenly  the 
whole  Andover  School  gave  the  Yale  cheer. 
Dud  Dean,  who  was  behind  me,  fired  up  and  said 


124  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

it  was  the  freshest  thing  he  had  ever  heard.  At 
Springfield  I  remember  one  Yale-Harvard  game 
started  with  ten  men  of  my  own  school,  Exeter, 
in  the  game.  In  another  Yale  game  we  were 
told  to  look  ugly  and  defiant  as  we  lined  up  to 
face  Yale,  but  I  was  forced  to  laugh  long  and 
hard  when  I  found  myself  facing  Frankie  Bar- 
bour, the  little  Yale  quarter,  who  lived  with  me 
in  the  same  dormitory  at  Exeter  for  three  years." 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER 

MEN  of  to-day  who  never  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  Foster  Sanford  play 
will  be  interested  in  some  anecdotes  of 
his  playing  days  and  to  read  in  another  chapter 
of  this  book  some  of  his  coaching  experiences. 

"As  a  boy,"  said  Sandy,  "I  lived  in  New  Ha- 
ven. I  chalked  the  lines  on  the  football  field  for 
the  game  in  which  Tilly  Lamar  made  his  famous 
run  for  Princeton.  I  played  on  the  college  team 
two  years  before  I  entered  Yale.  I  learned  a  lot 
of  football  playing  against  Billy  Rhodes,  that 
great  Yale  tackle. 

"I'll  tell  you  about  the  day  I  made  the  Yale 
team  in  my  freshman  year.  Pa  Corbin  took  me 
in  hand.  I  think  he  wanted  to  see  if  I  had  lots 
of  nerve.  He  told  me  to  report  at  nine  o'clock 
for  practice.  He  put  me  through  a  hard,  gruel- 
ing workout,  showing  me  how  to  snap  the  ball; 
how  to  charge  and  body  check.  All  this  took 
place  in  a  driving  rain,  and  he  kept  me  out  until 
one  o'clock,  when  he  said: 

"'You  can  change  your  jersey  now;  that  is, 
put  on  a  dry  one.' 

"I  went  over  to  the  training  table  then  to  see 

125 


126  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

if  I  couldn't  get  some  dinner.  Believe  me,  I  was 
hungry.  But  every  one  had  finished  his  meal 
and  all  I  could  pick  up  was  the  things  that  were 
left.  Here  I  ran  into  a  fellow  named  Brennen, 
who  said: 

"  'They're  trjnng  to  do  you  up.  This  is  the 
day  thej'^  are  deciding  whether  you  will  be  center 
rush  or  not.' 

"I  then  went  out  to  Yale  Field  and  joined  the 
rest  of  the  players,  and  the  stunts  they  put  me 
through  that  afternoon  I  will  never  forget.  But 
I  remembered  what  Brennen  had  told  me,  and  it 
made  me  play  all  the  harder.  To  tell  the  truth, 
after  practice,  I  realized  that  I  was  so  sore  I 
could  hardly  put  one  foot  ahead  of  the  other. 
To  make  matters  worse,  the  coaches  told  me  to 
rmi  in  to  town,  a  distance  of  two  miles,  while  they 
drove  off  in  a  bus.  I  didn't  catch  the  bus  until 
they  were  on  Park  Street,  but  I  pegged  along 
just  the  same  and  beat  them  in  to  the  gate. 
Billy  Rhodes  and  Pa  Corbin  took  care  of  me  and 
rubbed  me  down.  It  seems  as  though  they 
rubbed  every  bit  of  skin  off  of  me.  I  was  like 
fire. 

"That's  the  day  I  made  the  Yale  team. 

"I  was  twenty  years  old,  six  feet  tall,  and 
weighed  about  200  pounds." 

When  I  asked  Sandy  who  gave  him  the  hard- 
est game  of  his  life,  he  replied  promptly: 

"Wharton,  of  Pennsylvania.  He  got  through 
me. 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     127 

Parke  Davis'  enthusiasm  for  football  is  known 
the  country  over.  From  his  experience  as  a 
player,  as  a  coach  and  writer,  he  has  become  an 
authority.     Let  us  read  some  of  his  recollections. 

"Years  ago  there  was  a  high  spirited  young 
player  at  Princeton  serving  his  novitiate  upon 
the  scrub.  One  day  an  emergency  transferred 
him  for  the  first  time  in  his  career  to  the  Varsity. 
The  game  was  against  a  small  college.  This 
sudden  promotion  was  possible  through  his  for- 
tunate knowledge  of  the  varsity  signals.  Upon 
the  first  play  a  fumble  occurred.  Our  hero  seized 
the  ball.  A  long  service  upon  the  scrub  had  in- 
grained him  to  regard  the  Princeton  Varsity  men 
always  as  opponents.  In  the  excitement  of  the 
play  he  became  confused,  when  lo !  he  leaped  into 
flight  toward  the  wrong  goal.  Dashing  around 
Princeton's  left  end  he  reversed  his  field  and 
crossed  over  to  the  right.  Phil  King,  Prince- 
ton's quarterback,  was  so  amazed  at  the  perform- 
ance that  he  was  too  spellbound  to  tackle  his 
comrade.  Down  the  backfield  the  player  sped 
towards  his  own  goal.  Shep  Homans,  his  full- 
back, took  in  the  impending  catastrophe  at  a 
glance  and  dashed  forward,  laid  the  halfback  low 
with  a  sharp  tackle,  thereby  preventing  a  safety. 
The  game  was  unimportant,  the  Princeton's  score 
was  large,  so  the  unfortunate  player,  although 
the  butt  of  many  a  jest,  soon  survived  all  jokes 
and  jibes  and  became  in  time  a  famous  player." 

"The  first  Princeton- Yale  game  in  1873  being 


128  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

played  under  the  old  Association  rules  was  waged 
with  a  round  ball.  In  the  first  scrimmage  a  ter- 
rific report  sounded  across  the  field.  When  the 
contending  players  had  been  separated  the  poor 
football  was  found  upon  the  field  a  flattened 
sheet  of  rubber.  Two  toes  had  struck  it  simul- 
taneously or  some  one's  huge  chest  had  crushed 
it  and  the  ball  had  exploded. 

"Whenever  men  are  discussing  the  frantic  en- 
thusiasm of  some  fellows  of  the  game  I  always 
recall  the  following  episode  as  a  standard  of 
measurement.  The  Rules  Committee  met  one 
night  at  the  [Martinique  in  New  York  for  their 
annual  winter  session.  Just  as  the  members 
were  going  upstairs  to  convene,  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  introducing  George  Foster  Sanford  to 
Fielding  H.  Yost.  The  introduction  was  made 
in  the  middle  of  the  lobby  directly  in  the  way  of 
the  traffic  passing  in  and  out  of  the  main  door. 
The  Rules  Committee  had  gone  into  its  regular 
session ;  the  hour  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
When  they  came  down  at  midnight  these  two 
great  football  heroes  were  standing  in  the  very 
spot  where  they  were  introduced  four  hours  be- 
fore and  they  were  talking  as  they  had  been  every 
minute  throughout  the  four  hours  about  foot- 
ball. Members  of  the  Committee  joked  with  the 
two  enthusiasts  and  then  retired.  When  they 
came  down  stairs  the  next  morning  at  eight 
o'clock  they  found  the  two  fanatics  seated  upon 
a  bench  nearby  still  talking  football,  and  that 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     129 

afternoon  when  the  Committee  had  finished  its 
labors  and  had  adjourned  sine  die  they  left  San- 
ford  and  Yost  still  in  the  lobby,  still  on  the  bench, 
hungry  and  sleepy  and  still  talking  football." 

This  anecdote  will  be  a  good  one  for  Parke 
Davis'  friends  to  read,  for  how  he  ever  stayed  out 
of  that  talk-fest  is  a  mystery — maybe  he  did. 

Now  that  Yost  and  Sanford  have  retired  we 
will  let  Parke  continue. 

"A  few  years  ago  everybody  except  Dart- 
mouth men  laughed  at  the  football  which,  bound- 
ing along  the  ground  at  Princeton  suddenly 
jumped  over  the  cross  bar  and  gave  to  Princeton 
a  goal  from  the  field  which  carried  with  it  the 
victory.  But  did  you  ever  hear  that  in  the  pre- 
ceding season,  in  a  game  between  two  Southern 
Pennsylvania  colleges,  a  ball  went  awry  from  a 
drop  kick,  striking  in  the  chest  a  policeman  who 
had  strayed  upon  the  field?  The  ball  rebounded 
and  cleanly  caromed  between  the  goal  post  for 
a  goal  from  the  field.  Years  ago  Lafayette  and 
Pennsylvania  State  College  were  waging  a  close 
game  at  Easton.  Suddenly,  and  without  being 
noticed,  INIorton  F.  Jones,  Lafayette's  famous 
center-rush  in  those  days,  left  the  field  of  play  to 
change  his  head  gear.  The  ball  was  snapped  in 
play  and  a  fleet  Penn  State  halfback  broke 
through  Lafayette's  line,  and,  armed  with  the 
ball,  dodged  the  second  barriers  and  threatened 
by  a  dashing  sprint  to  score  in  the  extreme  corner 
of  the  field.     As  he  reached  the  10-yard  line,  to 


130  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  amazement  of  all,  Jones  dashed  out  of  the  side 
line  crowd  upon  the  field  between  the  10-yard  line 
and  his  goal,  thereby  intercepting  the  State  half- 
back, tackling  him  so  sharply  that  the  latter 
dropped  the  ball.  Jones  picked  it  up  and  ran  it 
back  40  yards.  There  was  no  rule  at  that  time 
which  prevented  the  play,  and  so  Penn- State  ulti- 
mately was  defeated.  Jones  not  only  was  a  hero, 
but  his  exploit  long  remained  a  mystery  to  many 
who  endeavored  to  figure  out  how  he  could  have 
been  25  yards  ahead  of  the  ball  and  between  the 
runner  and  his  own  goal  line." 

A  story  is  told  of  the  wonderful  dodging  abil- 
ity of  Phil  King,  Princeton  '93.  He  was  known 
throughout  the  football  world  as  one  of  the  shift- 
iest runners  of  his  day.  Through  his  efficient 
work.  King  had  fairly  won  the  game  against  Yale 
in  '93.  The  next  year  the  Yale  men  made  up 
their  minds  that  the  only  way  to  defeat  Prince- 
ton was  to  take  care  of  King,  and  they  were  ever 
on  the  alert  to  watch  him  whenever  he  got  the 
ball.  The  whole  Yale  team  was  looking  for 
King  throughout  this  game. 

On  the  kick-off  Phil  got  the  ball,  and  all  the 
Yale  forwards  began  to  shout,  "Here  he  comes, 
here  he  comes,"  and  then  as  he  was  cleverly  dodg- 
ing and  evading  the  Yale  players,  one  of  the 
backs,  who  was  waiting  to  tackle  him  low,  was 
heard  to  say,  "There  he  goes." 

Those  of  the  old-timers  who  study  the  picture 
of  the  flying  wedge  on  the  opposite  page  will  get 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     131 

a  glimpse  of  Phil  King  about  to  set  in  motion 
one  of  the  most  devilishly  ingenious  maneuvers 
in  the  history  of  the  game.  With  all  the  formid- 
able power  behind  him,  the  old  reliables  of  what 
the  modern  analytical  coaches  are  pleased  to  term 
the  farce  plays.  Balliett,  Beef  Wheeler,  Biffy 
Lea,  Gus  Holly,  Frank  ;Morse,  Doggy  Tren- 
chard,  Douglas  Ward,  Knox  Taylor,  Harry 
Brown,  Jerry  ^IcCauley,  and  Jim  Blake;  King, 
nevertheless,  stood  out  in  lonely  eminence,  ready 
to  touch  the  ball  down,  await  the  thunder  of  the 
joining  lines  of  interference  and  pick  up  the 
tremendous  pace,  either  at  the  apex  of  the  crash- 
ing V  or  cunningly  concealed  and  swept  along 
to  meet  the  terrific  impact  with  the  waiting  line 
of  Blue.  Great  was  the  crash  thereof,  and  it  was 
a  safe  wager  that  King  with  the  ball  would  not 
go  unscathed. 

This  kind  of  football  brought  to  light  the  old- 
time  indomitable  courage  of  which  the  stalwarts 
of  those  days  love  to  talk  at  every  gridiron  re- 
union. 

But  for  the  moment  let  us  give  Yale  the  ball 
and  stand  the  giant  Princeton  team  upon  defense. 
Let  us  watch  George  Adee  get  the  ball  from  Phil 
Stilhnan  and  with  his  wonderful  football  genius 
develop  a  smashing  play  enveloped  in  a  locked 
line  of  blue,  grim  with  the  menace  of  Orville 
Hickok,  Jim  JNlcCrea,  Anse  Beard,  Fred  ;Mur- 
phy,  Frank  Hinkey  and  Jack  Greenw\ay. 

Onward  these  mighty  Yale  forwards  ground 


132  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

their  way  through  the  Princeton  defense,  making 
a  breach  through  which  the  mighty  Butterworth, 
Bronc  Armstrong  and  Brink  Thome  might  bring 
victory  to  Yale. 

This  was  truly  a  day  when  giants  clashed. 

As  you  look  at  these  pictures  do  the  players 
of  to-day  wonder  any  longer  that  the  heroes  of 
the  olden  time  are  still  loyal  to  the  game  of  their 
first  love? 

If  you  ever  happen  to  go  to  China,  I  am  sure 
one  of  the  first  Americans  you  will  hear  about 
would  be  Pop  Gailey,  once  a  king  of  football  cen- 
ters and  now  a  leader  in  Y.  M.  C.  A.  work  in 
China. 

Lafayette  first  brought  Pop  Gailey  forth  in 
'93  and  '94,  and  he  was  the  champion  All- Ameri- 
can center  of  the  Princeton  team  in  '96.  He 
had  a  wonderful  influence  over  the  men  on  the 
team.  He  was  an  example  well  worth  following. 
His  manly  spirit  was  an  inspiration  to  those 
about  him.  After  one  of  the  games  a  newspaper 
said: 

"Old  Gailey  stands  firm  as  the  Eternal  Cal- 
vinistic  Faith,  which  he  intends  to  preach  when 
his  football  scrimmages  are  over." 

To  Charlie  Young,  the  present  professor  of 
physical  instruction  of  the  Cornell  University 
gymnasium,  I  cannot  pay  tribute  high  enough 
for  the  fine  football  spirit  and  the  high  regard 
with  which  we  held  him  while  he  was  at  the 
Princeton  Seminary.     He  certainly  loved  to  play 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     133 

football  and  he  used  to  come  out  and  play  on  the 
scrub  team  against  the  Princeton  varsity.  He 
was  not  eligible  to  play  on  the  Princeton  team, 
as  he  had  played  his  allotted  time  at  Cornell. 

The  excellent  practice  he  gave  the  Princeton 
team — yes,  more  than  practice :  it  was  oftentimes 
victory  for  him  as  well  as  the  scrub.  He  made 
Poe  and  Palmer  ever  alert  and  did  much  to  make 
them  the  stars  they  were,  as  Charlie's  long  suit 
was  running  back  punts.  His  head  work  was 
alwa5^s  in  evidence.  He  was  a  great  field  gen- 
eral; one  of  his  most  excellent  qualities  was  that 
of  punting.  His  was  an  ideal  example  for  men 
to  follow.  Princeton  men  were  the  better  for 
having  played  with  and  against  a  high  type  man 
like  Charlie  Young. 

AN   EVENING   WITH   JIM   RODGERS 

Jim  Rodgers  gave  all  there  was  in  him  to  Yale 
athletics.  Not  a  single  year  has  passed  since  he 
played  his  last  game  of  football  but  has  seen  him 
back  at  the  Yale  field,  coaching  and  giving  the 
benefit  of  his  experience. 

Jim  Rodgers  was  captain  of  the  '97  team  at 
New  Haven,  and  the  traditions  that  can  be  writ- 
ten about  a  winning  captain  are  many.  No 
greater  pleasure  can  be  afforded  any  man  who 
loves  to  hear  an  old  football  player  relate  ex- 
periences than  to  listen,  while  Rodgers  tells  of 
his  own  plaj^ing  days,  and  of  some  of  the  men 
in  his  experience. 


134  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

It  was  once  my  pleasure  to  spend  an  evening 
with  Jim  in  his  home;  really  a  football  home. 
Mrs.  Rodgers  knows  much  of  football  and  as 
Jim  enthusiastically  and  with  wonderfully  keen 
recollection  tells  of  the  old  games,  a  twelve-year- 
old  boy  listens,  as  only  a  boy  can  to  his  father, 
his  great  hero,  and  as  Jim  puts  his  hand  on  the 
boy's  shoulders  he  tells  him  the  ideal  of  his 
dreams  is  to  have  him  make  the  Yale  team  some 
day,  and  an  enthusiastic  daughter  who  sits  near 
hopes  so  too.  His  scrap  books  and  athletic  pic- 
tures go  to  make  a  rare  collection. 

Many  of  us  would  like  to  have  seen  Jim 
Rodgers  begin  his  football  career  at  Andover 
when  he  was  sixteen  years  old.  It  was  there 
that  his  180  pounds  of  bone  and  muscle  stood  for 
much.  It  was  at  Andover  that  Bill  Odlin,  that 
great  Dartmouth  man,  coached  so  many  won- 
derful prep  school  stars,  who  later  became  more 
famous  at  the  colleges  to  which  they  went. 

Rodgers  went  to  Yale  with  a  big  rep.  He 
had  been  captain  of  the  Andover  team.  In  the 
fall  of  '92  Andover  beat  Brown  24  to  0.  Jim 
Rodgers  was  very  conspicuous  on  the  field,  not 
only  on  account  of  his  good  playing  and  mus- 
cular appearance,  but  because  his  blond  hair, 
which  he  wore  very  long  as  a  protection,  was 
very  noticeable. 

From  this  Yale  player,  whose  friends  are 
legion,  let  us  read  some  experiences  and  catch 
his  spirit: 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     135 

"I  was  never  a  star  player,  but  I  was  a  reliable. 
In  my  freshman  year  I  did  not  make  the  team, 
owing  to  the  fact  that  I  had  bad  knees  and 
better  candidates  were  available.  This  was 
the  one  year  in  Yale  football,  perhaps  in  all  foot- 
ball, when  the  team  that  played  the  year  before 
came  back  to  college  with  not  a  man  missing. 
Frank  Hinkey  had  been  captain  the  year  before 
and  then  came  through  as  senior  captain.  There 
was  not  a  senior  on  Frank  Hinkey's  team.  The 
first  team,  therefore,  all  came  back. 

*'A1  Jerrems  and  Louis  Hinkey  were  the  only 
additions  to  the  old  team. 

"Perhaps  the  keenest  disappointment  that 
ever  came  to  me  in  football  was  the  fact  that  I 
could  not  play  in  that  famous  Yale-Harvard 
game  my  freshman  year.  However,  I  came  so 
very  near  it  that  Billy  Rhodes  and  Heffelfinger 
came  around  to  where  I  was  sitting  on  the  side 
lines,  after  Fred  ^Murphy  had  been  taken  out  of 
the  game.  They  started  to  limber  me  up  by 
running  me  up  and  down  the  side  hue,  but  Hin- 
key, the  captain,  came  over  to  the  side  line  and 
yelled  for  Chadwick,  who  went  into  the  game. 
I  had  worked  myself  up  into  a  highly  nervous 
condition  anticipating  going  in,  but  now  I  real- 
ized my  knees  would  not  allow  it.  The  disap- 
pointment that  day,  though,  was  very  severe. 
To  show  you  what  a  hold  these  old  games  had  on 
me,  many  years  after  this  game  Hinkey  and  I 
were  talking  about  this  particular  game,  when  he 


136  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

said  to  me:  'You  never  knew  how  close  you 
came  to  getting  into  that  Springfield  game,  Jim.' 
Then  I  told  him  of  my  experience,  but  he  told 
me  he  had  it  in  his  mind  to  put  me  in  at  halfback, 
and  ever  since  then,  when  I  think  of  it,  cold  chills 
run  up  and  down  my  spine.  It  absolutely  scared 
me  stiff  to  think  how  I  might  have  lost  that 
game,  even  though  I  never  actually  participated 
in  it. 

"The  Yale  football  management,  however,  on 
account  of  my  work  during  the  season  decided 
to  give  me  my  Y,  gold  football  and  banner.  The 
banner  was  a  blue  flag  with  the  names  of  the  team 
and  the  position  they  played  and  the  score,  12  to 
6.  It  was  a  case  where  I  came  so  near  winning 
it  that  they  gave  it  to  me." 

Jim  Rodgers  played  three  years  against  Garry 
Cochran  and  this  great  Princeton  captain  stands 
out  in  his  recollections  of  Yale-Princeton  games. 
He  goes  on  to  say: 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  Garry  Cochran,  I  might 
be  rated  as  one  of  the  big  tackles  of  the  football 
world  to-day.  I  used  to  dream  of  him  three 
weeks  before  the  Princeton  game;  how  I  was 
going  to  stand  him  off,  and  let  me  tell  you  if  you 
got  in  between  Doc  Hillebrand  and  Garry  Coch- 
ran you  were  a  sucker.  Those  games  were  a 
nightmare  to  me.  Cochran  used  to  fall  on  my 
foot,  box  me  in  and  hold  me  there,  and  keep  me 
out  of  the  play." 

Jim  Rodgers  is  very  modest  in  this  statement. 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    137 

The  very  reason  that  he  is  regarded  as  a  truly- 
wonderful  tackle  is  on  account  of  the  great  game 
he  played  against  Cochran.  How  wonderfully 
rehable  he  was  football  history  well  records. 
He  was  always  to  be  depended  upon. 

"In  the  fall  of  1897  when  I  was  captain  of  the 
Yale  team,"  Rodgers  continues,  "perhaps  the 
most  spectacular  Yale  victory  was  pulled  off, 
when  Princeton,  with  the  exception  of  perhaps 
two  men,  and  virtually  the  same  team  that  had 
beaten  Yale  the  year  before,  came  on  the  field  and 
through  overconfidence  or  lack  of  training  did 
not  show  up  to  their  best  form.  We  were  out 
for  blood  that  day.  I  said  to  Johnny  Baird, 
Princeton  quarter-back:  'Princeton  is  great  to- 
day. We  have  played  ten  minutes  and  you 
haven't  scored.'  Johnny,  with  a  look  of  deter- 
mination upon  his  face,  said,  'You  fellows  can 
play  ten  times  ten  minutes  and  j^ou'll  never 
score,'  but  the  Princeton  football  hangs  in  the 
Yale  trophy  room. 

"I  have  always  claimed  that  Charlie  de 
Saulles  put  the  Yale  '97  team  on  the  map. 
Charlie  de  Saulles,  with  his  three  wonderful 
runs,  which  averaged  not  less  than  60  yards  each, 
really  brought  about  the  victory. 

"Frank  Butterworth  as  head  coach  will  always 
have  my  highest  regard;  he  did  more  than  any 
one  alive  could  have  done  to  pull  off  an  appa- 
rently impossible  victory." 

"One   great   featm-e   of   this   game   was   Ad 


138  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Kelly's  series  of  individual  gains,  aided  by  Hille- 
brand  and  Edwards,  through  Rod  jers  and  Chad- 
wick.  Kelly  took  the  ball  for  40  consecutive 
yards  up  the  field  in  gains  of  from  one  to  three 
yards  each,  when  fortunately  for  Yale,  a  fumble 
gave  them  the  ball.  When  the  fumble  occurred, 
I  happened  at  the  time  to  break  through  very 
fast.  There  lay  the  ball  on  the  ground,  and  no- 
body but  myself  near  it.  The  great  chance  was 
there  to  pick  it  up  and  perhaps,  even  with  my 
slow  speed,  gain  20  to  30  yards  for  Yale.  No 
such  thought,  however,  entered  my  head.  I 
wanted  that  ball  and  curled  up  around  it  and 
hugged  it  as  a  tortoise  would  close  in  its  shell. 
My  recollection  is  now  that  I  sat  there  for  about 
five  minutes  before  anybody  deigned  to  fall  on 
me.     At  all  events,  I  had  the  ball. 

"Gordon  Brown  played  as  a  freshman  on  my 
team.  He  had  a  football  face  that  I  liked.  He 
weighed  185  pounds  and  was  6  feet  4  inches  tall. 
Gordon  went  up  against  Bouve  in  the  Harvard 
game,  and  the  critics  stated  that  Bouve  was  the 
best  guard  in  the  country  that  year.  I  said  to 
Gordon,  'Play  this  fellow  the  game  of  his  life, 
and  when  you  get  him,  let  me  know  and  I'll  send 
some  plays  through  you.'  After  about  sixty 
minutes  of  play  Gordon  came  to  me  and  said, 
'Jim,  I've  got  him,'  and  he  had  him  all  right,  for 
we  were  then  successful  in  gaining  through  that 
part  of  the  Harvard  hne.  Gordon  Brown  was  a 
very  earnest  player.     He  would  allow  nothing 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    139 

to  stop  him.  He  got  his  ears  pretty  well 
bruised  up  and  they  bothered  him  a  great  deal. 
In  fact,  he  did  have  to  lay  off  two  or  three  days. 
He  came  to  me  and  said,  'Do  you  think  this  in- 
jury will  keep  me  out  of  the  big  game?'  'Well, 
I'll  see  if  the  trainer  cannot  make  a  headgear  for 
you.'  'Well,  I'll  tell  you  this,  Jim,'  said  Gor- 
don, 'I'll  have  'em  cut  off  before  I'll  stay  out  of 
the  game.'  This  amused  me,  and  I  said,  'Gor- 
don, you  have  nothing  of  beauty  to  lose.  You 
will  keep  your  ears  and  you  will  play  in  the  big 
games.' 

"Gordon  Brown's  team,  under  Malcolm  Mc- 
Bride  as  head  coach,  was  a  wonder.  This 
eleven,  to  our  minds,  was  the  best  ever  turned 
out  by  Yale  University.  They  defeated  Prince- 
ton 29  to  5,  and  the  powerful  Harvard  team  28 
to  0.  Their  one  weakness  was  that  they  had  no 
long  punter,  but,  as  they  expressed  it  to  me  after- 
ward, they  had  no  need  of  one.  At  one  time  dur- 
ing the  game  with  Harvard  they  took  the  ball 
on  their  own  10-yard  line  and,  instead  of  kicking, 
marched  it  up  the  field,  and  in  a  very  few  rushes 
scored  a  touchdown.  Harvard  men  afterwards 
told  me  that  after  seeing  a  few  minutes  of  the 
game  they  forgot  the  strain  of  Harvard's  defeat 
in  their  admiration  of  Yale's  playing.  This 
team  showed  the  highest  co-ordination  between 
the  Yale  coaching  staff,  the  college,  and  the 
players,  and  they  set  a  high-water  mark  for  all 
future  teams  to  aim  at,  which  was  all  due  to  Gor- 


140  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

don  Brown's  genius  for  organization  and  leader- 
ship," 

It  has  been  my  experience  in  talking  of  foot- 
ball stars  with  some  of  the  old-timers  that  Frank 
Hinkey  heads  the  list.  I  cannot  let  Frank 
Hinkey  remain  silent  this  time.     He  says: 

"I  think  it  was  in  the  Fall  of  '95  that  Skim 
Brown,  who  played  the  tackle  position,  was  cap- 
tain of  the  scrubs  team  at  New  Haven.  Brown 
was  a  very  energetic  scrub  captain.  He  was 
continuously  urging  on  his  men  to  better  work. 
As  you  recall,  the  cry,  'Tackle  low  and  run  low,' 
was  continuously  called  after  the  teams  in  those 
days.  Brown's  particular  pet  phrase  in  urging 
his  men  was,  'Run  low.'  So  that  he,  whenever 
the  half-back  received  the  ball,  would  immedi- 
ately start  to  holler,  'Run  low,'  and  would  keep 
this  up  until  the  ball  was  dead.  He  got  so  in 
the  habit  of  using  this  call  when  on  the  offense 
that  one  day  when  the  quarter-back  called  upon 
him  to  run  with  the  ball  from  the  tackle  position 
even  before  he  got  the  ball  he  started  to  cry, 
'Run  low,'  while  carrying  the  ball  himself,  and 
continued  to  cry  out,  'Run  low,'  even  after  he 
had  gained  ground  for  about  fifteen  yards  and 
until  the  ball  was  dead. 

"It  was  in  the  Fall  of  '92  when  Vance  McCor- 
mick  was  captain  of  the  Yale  team,  and  Diney 
O'Neal  was  trying  for  the  guard  position.  As 
you  know,  the  linemen  are  very  apt  to  know  only 
the  signals  on  offense  which  call  for  an  opening 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    141 

at  their  particular  position.  And  even  then  a 
great  many  of  them  never  know  the  signals. 
Now  Diney  was  bright  enough,  but  like  most 
linemen  did  not  know  the  signals.  It  happened 
one  day  that  ]McCormick,  at  the  quarter-back 
position,  called  several  plays  during  the  after- 
noon that  required  O'Neal  to  make  an  opening. 
O'Neal  invariably  failed  because  he  didn't  know 
the  signals.  McCormick,  suspecting  this,  finally 
gave  O'Neal  a  good  calling  down.  The  calling 
down  fell  flat  in  its  effects  on  O'Neal  as  his  reply 
to  McCormick  was,  'To  Hell  with  your  mystic 
signs  and  symbols — give  me  the  ball!'  " 

"The  real  founder  of  football  at  Dartmouth 
was  Bill  Odhn,"  writes  Ed  Hall.  "Odlin  learned 
his  football  at  Andover,  and  came  to  Dartmouth 
with  the  class  of  '90  and  it  was  while  he  was  in 
college  that  football  really  started.  He  was 
practically  the  only  coach.  He  was  a  remark- 
able kicker — certainly  one  of  the  best,  if  not  the 
best.  In  the  Fall  of  '89  Odlin  was  captain  of 
the  team  and  playing  full-back.  Harvard  and 
Yale  played  at  Springfield  and  on  the  morning 
of  the  Harvard- Yale  game  Dartmouth  and  Wil- 
liams played  on  the  same  field.  It  was  in  this 
game  in  the  Fall  of  '89  that  he  made  his  most 
remarkable  kick  in  which  the  wind  was  a  very 
important  element.  In  the  second  half  Odlin 
was  standing  practically  on  his  own  ten  yard  line. 
The  ball  was  passed  back  to  him  to  be  kicked  and 
he  punted.     The  kick  itself  was  a  remarkable 


142  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

kick  and  perfect  in  every  way,  but  when  the  wind 
caught  it  it  became  a  wonder  and  it  went  along 
hke  a  balloon.  The  wind  was  really  blowing  a 
gale  and  the  ball  landed  away  beyond  the  Wil- 
liams' quarter-back  and  the  first  bounce  carried 
it  several  yards  bej^ond  their  goal  line.  Of 
course  any  such  kick  as  this  would  have  been  abso- 
lutely impossible  except  for  the  extreme  velocity 
and  pressure  of  the  wind,  but  it  was  easily  the 
longest  kick  I  ever  saw. 

"Three  times  during  Odlin's  football  playing 
he  kicked  goals  from  the  65  yard  line  and  while 
at  Andover  he  kicked  a  placed  kick  from  a  mark 
in  the  exact  center  of  the  field,  scoring  a  goal." 

When  Brown  men  discuss  football  their  recol- 
lections go  back  to  the  days  of  Hopkins  and  Mil- 
lard, of  Robinson,  McCarthy,  Fultz,  Everett 
Colby  and  Gammons,  Fred  Murphy,  Frank 
Smith,  the  giant  guard;  that  great  spectacular 
player,  Richardson,  and  other  men  mentioned 
elsewhere  in  this  book. 

In  a  recent  talk  with  that  sterling  fellow,  Dave 
Fultz,  he  told  me  something  about  his  football 
career.     It  was,  in  part,  as  follows: — 

"I  played  at  Brown  in  '94,  '95,  '96  and  '97, 
captaining  the  team  in  my  last  year.  Gammons 
and  I  played  in  the  back  field  together.  He  was 
unquestionably  a  great  runner  with  the  ball;  one 
of  the  hardest  men  to  hurt,  I  think,  I  ever  saw. 
I  have  often  seen  liim  get  jolts,  go  down,  and 
naturally  one  would  think  go  out  entirely,  but 


BARRETT  OX  ONE  OF  HIS  FA^IOUS  DASHES 


EXETER- AN  DOVER  GAME,  1915 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     143 

when  I  would  go  up  to  him,  he  would  jump  up 
as  though  he  had  not  felt  it.  I  think  Everett 
Colby  was  as  good  a  man  interfering  for  the  run- 
ner as  I  have  seen.  He  played  quarterback  and 
captained  the  Brown  team  in  '96.  I  don't  think 
there  was  ever  a  better  quarterback  than  Wyllys 
D.  Richardson,  Rich,  as  we  used  to  call  him." 

Dave  Fultz  is  very  modest  and  when  he  dis- 
cusses his  football  experiences  he  sidetracks  one 
and  talks  of  his  fellow  college  players.  Now 
that  I  have  pinned  him  down,  he  goes  on  to  say: 

"The  day  before  we  played  the  Indians  one 
year  my  knee  hurt  me  so  much  that  I  had  to  go 
to  the  doctor.  He  put  some  sort  of  ointment  on 
it.  Two  days  before  this  game  I  could  hardly 
move  my  leg;  the  doctor  threatened  me  with 
water  on  the  knee;  he  told  me  to  go  to  bed  and 
stay  there,  but  I  told  him  we  had  a  game  in  New 
York  and  I  had  to  go.  He  said,  'All  right,  if 
you  want  water  on  the  knee.'  I  said,  'I've  got 
to  go  if  I  am  at  all  able.'  Anyway,  I  went  on 
down  to  New  York  with  the  team  and  played  in 
the  game.  All  I  needed  was  to  get  warmed  up 
good  and  I  went  along  in  great  shape." 

Those  who  remember  reading  the  accounts  of 
that  game  will  recall  that  Dave  Fultz  made  some 
miraculous  runs  that  day  and  was  a  team  in  him- 
self. 

Fred  Murphy,  who  was  captain  of  the  '98  team 
at  Brown  and  played  end  rush,  says : 

"I  think  Dave  Fultz  played  under  more  diffi- 


144  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

culties  than  any  man  that  ever  played  the  game. 
I  have  seen  him  play  with  a  heavy  knee  brace. 
He  had  his  shoulder  dislocated  several  times  and 
I  have  seen  him  going  into  the  game  with  his  arm 
strapped  down  to  his  side,  so  he  could  just  use  his 
forearm.  He  played  a  number  of  games  that 
way.  That  happened  when  he  was  captain.  He 
was  absolutely  conscientious,  fearless  and  a  good 
leader." 

In  1904,  Fred  Murphy  coached  at  Exeter. 
Fred  says : 

*'This  was  probably  the  best  team  that  Exeter 
had  had  up  to  that  time.  The  team  was  cap- 
tained by  Tommy  Thompson,  who  afterwards 
played  at  Cornell.  Eddie  Hart  at  that  time 
stripped  at  about  195  pounds.  This  was  the 
famous  team  on  which  Donald  MacKenzie  Mac- 
Fadyen  played  and  later  made  the  Princeton 
varsity.  Tad  Jones  was  quarterback  the  first 
year  he  came  to  school.  In  those  days  they  took 
to  football  intuitively  without  much  coaching. 
You  never  had  to  tell  Tad  Jones  a  thing  more 
than  once.  He  would  think  things  out  for  him- 
self. He  showed  great  powers  of  leadership  and 
good  football  sense.  Howard  Jones  and  Harry 
Vaughn  played  on  this  team." 

"Charlie  McCarthy  of  Brown  will  long  be  re- 
membered for  his  great  punting  ability,"  says 
Fred  Murphy.  "He  had  a  great  many  pet 
theories.     McCarthy  is  one  of  the  best  football 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    145 

men  in  the  Brown  list."  In  a  letter  which  I  have 
received  from  Charlie  McCarthy,  as  a  result  of 
a  wonderful  victory  over  Minnesota  one  year, 
McCarthy  writes ; 

*'The  students  of  the  University  gave  me  a 
beautiful  gold  watch  engraved  on  the  inside — 
*To  our  Friend  JNIac  from  the  students  of  the 
University  of  Wisconsin.' "  This  shows  how 
highly  JMcCarthy  is  held  at  this  University. 

McCarthy  continues,  "I  go  out  every  fall  and 
kick  around  with  the  boys  still  and  I  hope  to  do 
so  the  rest  of  my  life  if  I  get  a  chance.  I  think 
the  greatest  football  player  I  ever  saw  was  Frank 
Hinkey.  Speaking  of  my  own  ability  as  a 
player,  I  haven't  much  to  say.  I  was  not  much 
of  a  football  player  but  I  got  by  some  way.  I 
neither  had  the  physique,  nor  the  ability,  but  tried 
to  do  my  best.  I  am  glad  to  say  no  one  ever 
called  me  a  quitter.  I  am  proud  to  say  that 
Brown  University  gave  me  a  beautiful  silver  cup 
at  the  end  of  my  four  years  for  the  best  work  in 
football,  although  the  said  cup  belongs  by  rights 
to  ten  other  men  on  the  team." 

As  one  visits  the  dressing  room  of  the  New 
York  Giants  and  sees  the  attendant  work  upon 
the  wonderful  physique  of  Christy  INIathewson, 
one  cannot  help  but  realize  what  a  potent  factor 
he  must  have  been  on  Bucknell's  team.  When 
Christy  played  he  was  6  feet  tall  and  weighed 
168  pomids  stripped.     He  prepared  at  Keystone 


146  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Academy,  playing  in  the  line.  In  1898,  when 
he  went  to  Bucknell,  he  was  immediately  put  at 
full-back  and  played  there  three  years. 

Fred  Crolius  says  of  him:  "Of  all  the  long 
distance  punters  with  hard  kicks  to  handle,  Percy 
Haughton  and  Christy  JNIathewson  stand  out  in 
his  memory.  !Mathewson  had  the  leg  power  to 
turn  his  spiral  over.  That  is,  instead  of  drop- 
ping where  ordinary  spirals  always  drop,  an  ad- 
ditional turn  seemed  to  carry  the  ball  over  the 
head  of  the  back  who  was  waiting  for  the  ball, 
often  carrying  some  fifteen  or  twenty  yards  be- 
yond." 

Football  has  no  more  ardent  admirer  than 
Christy  Mathewson.  It  will  be  interesting  to 
hear  what  he  has  to  say  of  his  experience  in 
the  game  of  football. 

"I  liked  to  play  football,"  says  Mathewson. 
"I  was  a  better  football  player  than  a  baseball 
player  in  those  days.  I  was  considered  a  good 
punter.  I  was  not  much  as  a  line  bucker.  The 
captain  of  the  team  always  gave  me  a  football  to 
take  with  me  in  the  summer.  I  occasionally  had 
an  opportunity  to  practice  kicking  after  I  was 
through  with  my  baseball  work. 

"At  Taunton,  Mass.,  my  first  summer,  I  ran 
across  a  fellow  who  was  playing  third  base  on 
the  team  for  which  I  was  pitching.  MacAn- 
drews  was  his  name.  He  was  a  Dartmouth  man. 
He  showed  me  how  to  kick.     He  showed  me  how 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     147 

to  drop  a  spiral.  I  liked  to  drop-kick  and  used 
to  practice  it  quite  a  little." 

"I  remember  how  tough  it  was  for  me  when 
Bucknell  played  Annapolis  the  year  before  when 
the  Navy  team  had  a  man  who  could  kick  such 
wonderful  spirals.  They  were  terribly  hard  to 
handle,  and  I  was  determined  to  profit  by  his  ex- 
ample. So  I  just  hung  on  for  dear  life,  punting 
spirals  all  summer.  Later  I  used  to  watch 
George  Brooke  punt  a  good  deal  when  he  was 
coaching." 

*'At  that  time  drop  kickers  were  not  so  numer- 
ous. I  had  some  recollection  of  a  fellow  named 
O'Day,  who  had  a  great  reputation  as  a  drop- 
kicker,  as  did  Hudson  of  Carlisle.  In  1898  we 
were  to  play  Pennsylvania.  Our  team  served  as 
a  preliminary  game  for  Pennsylvania.  They 
often  beat  us  by  large  scores.  Since  then  we 
have  had  teams  which  made  a  6  to  5  score.  But 
they  had  good  teams  in  my  time.  We  never 
scored  on  Penn,  as  I  recall. 

"Our  coach  said  one  day,  at  the  training  table, 
*I'll  give  a  raincoat  to  the  fellow  who  scores  on 
Penn  to-day.'  The  manager  walked  in  and  over- 
heard his  remark  and  added,  'Yes,  and  I'll  give  a 
pair  of  shoes  to  the  man  who  makes  the  second 
score  against  Penn.'  That  put  some  *pep'  into 
us.  Anyway,  we  were  on  Penn's  35-yard  line 
and  I  kicked  a  field  goal.  After  this  we  rushed 
the  ball  and  got  up  to  Penn's  -iO-yard  line,  and 


148  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

from  there  I  scored  again,  thereby  winning  the 
shoes  and  the  raincoat. 

"I  went  up  to  Columbia  one  day  to  see  them 
practice.  It  was  in  the  days  when  Foster  San- 
ford  was  their  coach.  He  saw  me  standing  on 
the  side  Unes;  came  over  to  where  I  was;  looked 
me  over  once  or  twice  and  finally  said : 

"  'Why  aren't  you  trying  for  the  team?  I 
think  you'd  make  a  football  player  if  you  came 
out.' 

"I  said  I  guessed  I  would  not  be  eligible. 

"'Why?'  asked  Sandy 

"  'Well,"  I  said,  'because  I'm  a  professional.' 
Then  some  fellows  around  me  grinned  and  told 
Sanford  who  I  was. 

"I  love  to  think  of  the  good  old  football  days 
and  some  of  the  spirit  that  entered  collegiate  con- 
tests. Once  in  a  while,  in  baseball,  I  feel  the 
thrill  of  that  spirit.  It  was  only  recently  that  I 
experienced  that  get-together  spirit,  where  a  team 
full  of  life  with  everybody  working  together 
wrought  great  results.  That  same  old  thrill 
came  to  me  during  one  of  the  Giants'  trips  in  the 
West  in  which  they  won  seventeen  straight  vic- 
tories. 

"There  is  much  good  fellowship  in  football.  I 
played  against  teams  whose  cheer  leaders  would 
give  you  a  rousing  cheer  as  you  made  a  good 
play;  then  again  you  would  meet  the  fellow 
who,  when  you  were  down  in  the  scrimmage,  or 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     149 

after  you  had  kicked  the  ball,  would  try  to  put 
you  down  and  out. 

"One  of  the  pleasantest  recollections  I  have  of 
playing  was  my  experience  against  the  two  great 
academy  teams,  West  Point  and  Annapohs. 

"Never  shall  I  forget  one  year  when  Bucknell 
played  West  Point.  At  an  exciting  moment  in 
the  game,  Bucknell  players  made  it  possible  for 
me  to  be  in  a  position  to  kick  the  goal  from  the 
field  from  a  difficult  angle.  After  the  score  had 
been  made  the  West  Point  team  stood  there 
stupefied,  and  when  the  crowd  got  the  idea  that  a 
goal  had  been  kicked  from  a  pecuHar  angle,  they 
gave  us  a  rousing  cheer.  Such  is  the  proper 
spirit  of  American  football ;  to  see  some  sunshine 
in  your  opponent's  play. 

"Cheering  helps  so  much  to  build  up  one's 
enthusiasm." 

Al  Sharpe  was  one  of  the  greatest  all-around 
athletes  that  ever  wore  the  blue  of  Yale.  Pie, 
too,  recalls  the  Yale-Princeton  game  of  1899  at 
New  Haven,  but  the  memory  comes  to  him  as  a 
nightmare. 

"When  I  think  about  the  11  to  10  game  at  New 
Haven,  which  Princeton  won,"  said  Sharpe  the 
last  time  I  saw  him,  "I  remember  that  after  I 
had  kicked  a  goal  from  the  field  and  the  score 
was  10  to  6,  Skim  Brown  rushed  up  to  me,  and 
nearly  took  me  off  my  feet  with  one  of  his  friendly 
slaps  across  my  back.     Well  do  I  remember  the 


150  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

joy  of  that  great  Yale  player  at  this  stage  of  the 
game.  Later,  when  Poe  made  his  kick  and  I 
saw  that  the  ball  was  going  over  the  bar,  I  re- 
member that  the  thing  I  wished  most  was  that  I 
could  have  been  up  in  the  line  where  I  might  have 
had  a  chance  to  block  the  kick. 

"My  recollections  of  making  the  Yale  team 
centered  chiefly  around  three  facts,  none  of  which 
I  was  allowed  to  forget.  First,  that  I  was  not 
any  good,  second  that  I  couldn't  tackle,  and  third 
that  I  ran  like  an  ice-wagon.  Since  then  I  have 
seen  so  many  really  good  players  upon  my  dif- 
ferent squads  that  I  must  admit  the  truth  of  the 
above  statement,  although  at  the  time  I  am  frank 
to  say  I  took  exception  to  it.  Such  is  the  opti- 
mism of  youth." 

Jack  Munn,  a  former  Princeton  half-back, 
tells  the  following  storj^ : 

"My  brother,  Edward  JVIunn,  was  the  manager 
of  the  Princeton  team  in  1893.  In  the  spring  of 
that  year  there  was  a  conference  with  Yale  repre- 
sentatives to  decide  where  the  game  was  to  be 
played  the  following  fall.  Berkeley  Oval,  Brook- 
lyn, Manhattan  Field,  and  the  respective  fields 
of  the  two  colleges  all  came  under  discussion,  and 
I  believe  that  some  of  the  newspapers  must  have 
taken  it  up.  One  afternoon  in  the  Murray  Hill 
Hotel,  when  representatives  of  Yale  and  Prince- 
ton were  discussing  the  various  possibilities,  a 
bellboy  knocked  at  the  door  and  handed  my 
brother  an  elaborately  engraved  card  on  which, 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     151 

among  various  decorations,  the  name  of  Colonel 
Cody  was  to  be  distinguished.  Buffalo  Bill  was 
invited  to  come  up,  and  it  seems  that,  reading  or 
hearing  of  the  discussion  about  the  field  for  the 
game,  he  came  to  make  a  formal  offer  of  the  use 
of  his  tent.  After  setting  forth  the  desirability 
of  staging  the  game  under  the  auspices  of  his 
Wild  West  Show,  he  brought  his  offer  to  a  close 
with  his  trump  card. 

"  'For,  gentlemen,'  said  he,  'besides  all  the 
other  advantages  which  I  have  mentioned,  there 
is  this  further  attraction — my  tent  is  well  and  suf- 
ficiently lighted  so  that  you  can  not  only  hold  a 
matinee,  but  you  can  give  an  evening  perform- 
ance as  well.' 

"And  those  were  the  days  of  the  flying  wedge 
and  two  forty-five  minute  halves  with  only  ten 
minutes  intermission !" 

Walter  C.  Booth 

Walter  C.  Booth,  a  former  Princeton  center 
rush,  was  one  of  the  select  coterie  of  Eastern 
football  men  that  wended  its  way  westward  to 
carry  the  eastern  system  into  institutions  that 
had  had  no  opportunity  to  build  up  the  game, 
yet  were  hungry  for  real  football.  Booth's 
trip  was  a  successful  one. 

"In  the  autumn  of  1900,  after  graduating  from 
college,  I  arrived  at  Lincoln,  Nebraska,  in  the 
dual  role  of  law  student  and  football  coach  of  the 
State  University,"  says  Booth.     "This  was  my 


152  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

first  trip  west  of  Pittsburgh  and  I  viewed  my  new 
duties  with  some  apprehension.  All  doubts  and 
fears  were  soon  put  at  rest  by  the  hearty  en- 
couragement and  support  that  I  received  and  re- 
tained in  my  Nebraska  football  relations. 

"Most  of  the  Faculty  were  behind  football, 
and  H.  Benjamin  Andrews,  at  that  time  head  of 
the  University,  was  a  staunch  supporter  of  the 
game.  Doctor  Roscoe  Pound,  later  dean  of 
Harvard  Law  School,  was  the  father  of  Ne- 
braska football.  He  had  as  intimate  an  ac- 
quaintance with  the  rule  book  as  any  official  I 
have  ever  known.  His  advice  on  knotty  prob- 
lems was  always  valuable.  James  I.  Wyer,  aft- 
erward State  Librarian  of  New  York,  was  our 
first  financial  director,  and  it  was  largely  by  rea- 
son of  his  unflagging  zeal  that  football  survived. 

"Football  spirit  ran  high  in  the  Missouri  Val- 
ley and  there  were  many  hard  fought  contests 
among  the  teams  of  Iowa,  Missouri,  Kansas  and 
Nebraska.  Those  who  saw  these  games  or 
played  in  them  will  never  forget  them. 

"Many  amusing  things  happened  in  that  sec- 
tion as  well  as  in  the  East.  The  Haskell  Indians 
were  a  picturesque  team.  They  represented  the 
Government  School  at  Lawrence,  Kansas — an 
institution  similar  to  that  of  Carlisle.  In  fact, 
many  of  the  same  players  played  on  both  teams  at 
different  times.  We  always  found  them  a  hard 
nut  to  crack,  and  Redwater,  Archiquette,  Hauser 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     153 

and  other  Indian  stars  made  their  names  well 
known  on  our  field. 

"Jolm  Outland,  the  noted  Pennsylvania 
player,  had  charge  of  the  Indians  when  I  knew 
them.  He  was  a  great  player  and  a  fine  type  of 
man,  who  succeeded  in  imparting  some  of  his  own 
personahty  to  his  pupils.  He  once  showed  me  a 
dark  faced  Indian  in  Lawrence  who  must  have 
been  at  least  six  feet  four  inches  tall  and  of  superb 
physique.  He  was  a  full  blooded  Cheyenne  and 
went  by  the  name  of  Bob  Tail  Billy.  Outland 
tried  hard  to  break  him  in  at  guard,  but  as  no  one 
imderstood  Bob  Tail's  dialect,  and  he  understood 
no  one  else,  he  never  learned  the  signals,  and 
proved  unavailable. 

"We  traveled  far  to  play  in  those  days;  west  to 
Boulder,  Colorado,  handicapped  by  an  altitude  of 
5000  feet,  south  to  Kansas  City  and  north  as  far* 
as  St.  Paul  and  Minneapolis.  We  were  gener- 
ally about  500  miles  from  our  base.  We  were 
not  able  to  take  many  deadheads." 

Harry  Kersburg  is  one  of  the  most  enthusiastic 
Harvard  football  players  I  have  ever  met.  He 
played  guard  on  Harvard  in  1904,  '05  and  '06 
and  is  often  asked  back  to  Cambridge  to  coach  the 
center  men.  From  his  playing  days  let  us  read 
what  he  prizes  in  his  recollections : 

"My  college  career  began  at  Lehigh,  with  the 
idea  of  eventually  going  to  Harvard.  As  a  foot- 
ball enthusiast,  I  came  under  the  observation  of 


154  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Doctor  Newton,  who  was  coaching  Lehigh  at 
that  time.  Doc  taught  me  the  first  football  I 
ever  knew.  In  one  of  the  games  against  Union 
College  Doc  asked  me  before  the  game  whether  if 
he  put  me  in  I  would  deliver  the  goods.  I  said  I 
would  try  and  do  my  best.  He  said,  'That  won't 
do.  I  don't  want  any  man  on  my  team  who  says, 
"I'll  try."  A  man  has  got  to  say  "I'll  do  it." 
From  that  time  on  I  never  said,  'I'll  try,'  but  al- 
ways said  'I'll  do  it.' 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  day  I  played  against 
John  DeWitt.  I  did  not  know  much  about  the 
finer  points  of  football  then.  I  weighed  about 
165  pounds  with  my  football  clothes  on,  was  five 
feet  nine  inches  tall  and  sixteen  years  old.  I 
shall  always  remember  seeing  that  great  big  hawk 
of  a  man  opposite  me.  I  did  not  have  cold  feet. 
I  knew  I  had  to  go  in  and  give  the  best  account 
of  myself  I  could.  It  was  like  going  up  against 
a  stone  wall.  John  DeWitt  certainly  could  use 
his  hands,  with  the  result  that  I  resembled  paper 
pulp  when  I  came  out  of  that  game.  DeWitt 
did  everything  to  me  but  kill  me.  After  I  got 
my  growth,  weight  and  strength,  plus  my  ex- 
perience, I  always  had  a  desire  to  play  against 
DeWitt  to  see  if  he  could  the  same  thing  again. 

"In  a  Harvard- Yale  game  one  year  I  remem- 
ber an  incident  that  took  place  between  Carr, 
Shevlin  and  myself,"  says  Harry 

"Tom  Shevlin  usually  stood  near  the  goal  line 
when  Yale  received  the  kick-off.     As  a  matter 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     155 

of  fact  he  caught  the  ball  most  of  the  time.  The 
night  before  the  Yale  game  in  1905,  Bill  Carr 
and  myself  were  discussing  what  might  come  up 
the  following  day.  Inasmuch  as  we  always  lined 
up  side  by  side  on  the  kick  off,  we  made  a  wager 
that  if  Harvard  kicked  off  we  would  each  be  the 
first  to  tackle  Shevlin. 

"The  next  day  Harvard  won  the  toss  and  chose 
to  kick  off,  and  as  we  had  hoped,  Shevlin  caught 
the  ball.  Carr  and  I  raced  down  the  field,  each 
intent  on  being  the  first  to  tackle  him.  I  crashed 
into  Shevlin  and  spilled  him,  upsetting  myself 
at  the  same  time.  When  I  picked  myself  up  and 
looked  around,  Carr  had  Shevlin  pinned  securely 
to  the  ground.  After  the  game  we  told  Shevlin 
of  our  wager  and  he  said  that  under  the  circum- 
stances all  bets  were  off  as  both  had  won." 

Former  U.  S.  Attorney-General  William  H. 
Lewis,  who  is  one  of  the  leading  representatives 
of  the  colored  race,  needs  no  introduction  to 
the  football  world,  says  Kersburg.  'Bill,'  or 
'Lew,'  as  he  is  familiarly  known  to  all  Harvard 
men,  laid  the  foundation  for  the  present  system 
of  line  play  at  Cambridge.  He  was  actively  en- 
gaged in  coaching  until  1907  when  he  was  obliged 
to  give  it  up  due  to  pressure  of  business. 

"In  1905  'Hooks'  Burr  and  I  played  the  guard 
positions.  'Lew'  seemed  to  center  his  attention 
on  us  as  we  always  received  more  'calls'  after 
each  game  than  the  other  linemen  for  doing  this, 
that,  or  the  other  thing  wrong.     In  the  Brown 


156  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

game  of  this  year  Hooks  played  against  a  col- 
ored man  who  was  exceptionally  good  and  who, 
Hooks  admitted  afterward,  'put  it  all  over' 
him.  The  Monday  following  this  game  we  re- 
ceived our  usual  'call.'  After  telling  me  what  a 
rotten  game  I  had  played  he  turned  on  Burr  and 
remarked.  'What  the  devil  was  the  matter  with 
you  on  Saturday,  Hooks  ?  That  guard  on  the 
Brown  team  "smeared"  you.'  Buit  replied,  'I 
don't  know  what  was  the  matter  with  me.  I 
used  my  hands  on  that  nigger's  head  and  body  all 
through  the  game  but  it  didn't  seem  to  do  any 
good.'  Several  of  us  who  were  listening  felt  a 
bit  embarrassed  that  Hooks  had  unwittingly 
made  this  remark.  The  tension  was  relieved, 
however,  when  Lew  drawled  out,  'Why  the 
devil  didn't  you  kick  him  in  the  shins?'  A  burst 
of  laughter  greeted  this  sally." 

Donald  Grant  Herring,  better  known  to  foot- 
ball men  in  and  out  of  Princeton  as  Heff,  is 
one  of  the  few  American  players  of  international 
experience.  After  a  period  of  splendid  play  for 
the  Tigers  he  went  to  England  with  a  Rhodes 
Scholarship.  At  Merton  College  he  continued 
his  athletic  career,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he 
became  a  member  of  one  of  the  most  famous 
Rugby  fifteens  ever  turned  out  by  Oxford. 

Heff  has  always  said  that  he  enjoyed  the  Eng- 
lish game,  but  whether  the  brand  he  played  was 
American  or  EngHsh,  his  opponent  usually  got 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    157 

little  enjoyment  out  of  a  hard  afternoon  with 
this  fine  Princeton  athlete. 

"In  the  late  summer  of  1903,  I  was  on  a  train 
coming  east  from  Montana,"  Heff  tells  me, 
"after  a  summer  spent  in  the  Rockies.  A  com- 
panion recognized  among  the  passengers  Doc 
Hillebrand,  who  was  coming  East  from  his  ranch 
to  coach  the  Princeton  team.  This  companion 
who  was  still  a  Lawrenceville  schoolboy,  had  the 
nerve  to  brace  Hillebrand  and  tell  him  in  my 
presence  that  I  was  going  to  enter  Princeton  that 
fall  and  that  I  was  a  star  football  player.  You 
can  imagine  what  Doc  thought,  and  how  I  felt. 
However,  Doc  was  kind  enough  to  tell  me  to  re- 
port for  practice  and  to  recognize  me  when  I 
appeared  on  the  field  several  weeks  later.  I  soon 
drifted  over  to  the  freshman  field  and  I  want  to 
admit  here  what  caused  me  to  do  so.  It  was 
nothing  more  nor  less  than  the  size  of  Jim 
Cooney's  legs.  Jim  was  a  classmate  of  mine 
whom  I  first  saw  on  the  football  field  when  he 
and  another  tackle  candidate  were  engaged  in 
that  delicate  pastime  known  to  linemen  as  break- 
ing through.  I  realized  at  once  that,  if  Jim  and 
I  were  ever  put  up  against  one  another,  I  would 
stand  about  as  much  chance  of  shoving  him  back 
as  I  would  if  I  tried  to  push  a  steam  roller.  So 
I  went  over  to  the  freshman  field,  where  Howard 
Henry  was  coaching  at  the  time.  He  was  send- 
ing ends  down  the  field  and  I  remember  being 


158  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

thrilled,  after  beating  a  certain  bunch  of  them,  at 
hearing  him  say:  'You  in  the  brown  jersey, 
come  over  here  in  the  first  squad.' 

"DeWitt's  team  beat  Cornell  44-0.  For  years 
there  hung  on  the  walls  of  the  Osborn  Club  at 
Princeton  a  splendid  action  picture  of  Dana 
Kafer  making  one  of  the  touchdowns  in  that 
game.  It  was  a  mass  on  tackle  play,  and  Jim 
Cooney  was  getting  his  Cornell  opponent  out  of 
the  way  for  Kafer  to  go  over  the  line.  The  pic- 
ture gave  Jim  dead  away.  He  had  a  firm  grip 
of  the  Cornell  man's  jersey  and  arm.  Ten 
years  or  more  afterward,  a  group,  including 
Cooney,  was  sitting  in  the  Osborn  Club.  In  a 
spirit  of  fun  one  man  said,  'Jim,  we  know  now 
how  you  got  your  reputation  as  a  tackle.  We 
can  see  it  right  up  there  on  the  wall.'  The  next 
day  the  picture  was  gone. 

"After  I  was  graduated  from  Princeton  in 
1907  I  went  to  Merton  College,  Oxford.  There 
are  twenty-two  different  colleges  in  Oxford  and 
eighteen  in  Cambridge.  Each  one  has  its  own 
teams  and  crews  and  plays  a  regular  schedule. 
From  the  best  of  these  college  teams  the  univer- 
sity teams  are  drawn.  Each  college  team  has  a 
captain  and  a  secretary,  who  acts  as  manager. 
At  the  beginning  of  the  college  year  (early  Oc- 
tober) the  captain  and  secretary  of  each  team  go 
around  among  the  freshmen  of  the  college  and 
try  to  get  as  many  of  them  as  possible  to  play 
their   particular    sport;   mine   Rugby   football. 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER     159 

After  a  few  days  the  captain  posts  on  the  col- 
lege bulletin  board,  which  is  always  placed  at  the 
Porter's  Lodge,  a  notice  that  a  squash  will  be 
held  on  the  college  field.  A  squash  is  what  we 
would  call  practice. 

"Sometimes  for  a  few  days  before  the  game  an 
Old  Blue  may  come  down  to  Oxford  and  give  a 
little  coaching  to  the  team.  Here  often  the  cap- 
tain does  all  the  coaching.  The  Cambridge 
match  is  for  blood,  and,  while  friendly  enough,  is 
likely  to  be  much  more  savage  than  any  other. 
In  the  match  I  played  in,  which  Oxford  won 
35-3,  the  record  score  in  the  whole  series,  which 
started  in  1872,  we  had  three  men  severely  in- 
jured. In  the  first  three  minutes  of  the  game 
one  of  our  star  backs  was  carried  off  the  field 
with  a  broken  shoulder,  while  our  captain  was 
kicked  in  the  head  and  did  not  come  out  of  his 
daze  until  about  seven  o'clock  that  evening.  He 
played  throughout  the  game,  however.  Our 
secretary  was  off  the  field  with  a  knee  cap  out  of 
place  for  more  than  half  the  game.  A  game  of 
Rugby,  by  the  way,  consists  of  two  45-minute 
halves,  with  a  three  minute  intermission.  There 
are  no  substitutes,  and  if  a  man  is  injured,  his 
team  plays  one  man  short.  We  beat  Cambridge 
tliat  year  with  thirteen  men  the  greater  part  of 
the  game,  twelve  for  some  time  against  their  full 
team  of  fifteen.  Their  only  try  (touchdown  in 
plain  American)  was  scored  when  we  had  twelve 
men  on  the  field.     We  were  champions  of  Eng- 


160  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

land  that  year,  and  did  not  lose  a  match  through 
the  fall  season,  though  we  tied  one  game  with 
the  great  Harlequins  Club  of  London,  whom  we 
afterward  beat  in  the  return  game.  Of  the  fine 
fellows  who  made  up  that  great  Oxford  team,  six 
are  dead,  five  of  them  'somewhere  in  France.'  " 

Carl  Flanders  was  a  big  factor  in  the  Yale 
rush  line.  Foster  Sanford  considers  him  one  of 
the  greatest  offensive  centers  that  ever  played. 
He  was  six  feet  three  and  one-fourth  inches  tall 
and  weighed  202  pounds. 

In  1906  Flanders  coached  the  Indian  team  at 
Carlisle.  Let  us  see  some  of  the  interesting 
things  that  characterize  the  Indian  players, 
through  Flanders'  experience. 

The  nicknames  with  which  the  Indians  labelled 
each  other  were  mostly  those  of  animals  or  a 
weapon  of  defense.  Mount  Pleasant  and  Libby 
always  called  each  other  Knife.  Bill  Gardner 
was  crowned  Chicken  Legs,  Charles,  one  of  the 
halfbacks,  and  a  regular  little  tiger,  was  called 
Bird  Legs.  Other  names  fastened  to  the  differ- 
ent players  were  Whale  Bone,  Shoe  String, 
Tommyhawk  and  Wolf. 

The  Indians  always  played  cleanly  as  long  as 
their  opponents  played  that  way.  Dillon,  an  old 
Sioux  Indian,  and  one  of  the  fastest  guards  I 
ever  saw,  was  a  good  example  of  this.  If  any- 
body started  rough  play,  Dillon  would  say: 

"Stop  that,  boys  I"  and  the  chap  who  was  guilty 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    161 

always  stopped.  But  if  an  opponent  continually 
played  dirty  football,  Dillon  would  say  grimly: 
"I'U  get  you!"  On  the  next  play  or  two,  you'd 
never  know  how,  the  rough  player  would  be  taken 
out.     Dillon  had  "got"  his  man." 

"Wallace  Denny  and  Bemus  Pierce  got  up  a 
code  of  signals,  using  an  Indian  word  which 
designated  a  single  play.  Among  the  Indian 
words  which  designated  these  signals  were  Water- 
bucket,  Watehnee,  Coocoohee.  I  never  could 
find  out  what  it  all  meant,  and  following  the  In- 
dian team  by  this  code  of  signals  was  a  task  which 
was  too  much  for  me." 

Bill  Horr,  renowned  in  Colgate  and  Syracuse, 
writes:  "Colgate  University  and  Colgate  Acad- 
emy are  under  the  same  administration,  and 
the  football  teams  were  practicing  when  I  en- 
tered school.  I  went  out  for  the  team  and 
after  the  second  practice  I  was  put  into  the  scrim- 
mage. I  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  game 
and  continued  for  the  afternoon  practice,  and 
played  at  tackle  in  the  first  game  of  the  season. 
In  four  years  of  winning  football  I  became  ac- 
quainted with  such  wonderful  athletes  as  Riley 
Castleman  and  Walter  Runge  of  the  Colgate 
Varsity  team. 

"In  the  fall  of  1905  I  entered  Syracuse  Uni- 
versity and  played  right  tackle  on  the  varsity 
team  for  four  years  and  was  captain  of  the  vic- 
torious 1908  team.  In  the  four  years  I  never 
missed  a  scrimmage  or  a  game. 


162  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"I  think  that  one  of  the  hardest  games  I  ever 
played  in  was  the  game  against  Princeton  in 
1908,  when  they  had  such  stars  as  Sieghng,  Mac- 
Fadyen,  Eddie  Dillon  and  Tibbott.  The  game 
ended  in  a  scoreless  tie  with  the  ball  see-sawing 
back  and  forth  on  the  40-yard  line.  I  had  been 
accustomed  to  carry  the  ball,  and  had  been  suc- 
cessful in  executing  a  forward  pass  of  fifty-five 
yards  in  the  Yale  game  the  week  before,  placing 
the  ball  on  the  1-yard  line,  only  to  lose  it  on  a 
fumble. 

"I  had  the  reputation  of  being  a  good-natured 
player,  and  indirectly  heard  it  rumored  many 
times  by  coaches  and  football  players  that  they 
would  like  to  see  me  fighting  mad  on  the  football 
field.  The  few  Syracuse  rooters  who  journeyed 
to  Easton  the  day  we  plaj^ed  Lafayette  had  that 
opportunity.  Dowd  was  the  captain  of  the  La- 
fayette team.  Next  to  me  was  Barry,  a  first- 
class  football  player,  who  stripped  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  200  pounds.  Just  before  the  begin- 
ning of  the  second  half  I  was  in  a  crouching  posi- 
tion ready  to  start,  when  some  one  dealt  me  a 
stinging  blow  on  the  ear.  I  was  dazed  for  the 
time  being.  I  turned  to  Barry  and  asked  him 
who  did  it.  He  pointed  to  Dowd.  From  that 
instant  I  was  determined  to  seek  revenge.  I  was 
ignorant  of  the  true  culprit  until  about  a  year 
afterward,  when  Anderson,  who  played  center, 
and  was  a  good  friend  of  mine,  told  me  about  it. 


THE  NINETIES  AND  AFTER    163 

It  seemed  that  just  before  we  went  on  the  field 
for  the  second  half  Buck  O'Neil,  who  was  coach- 
ing the  Syracuse  team,  told  Barry  to  hit  me  and 
make  me  mad." 


CHAPTER  X 
COLLEGE  TRADITIONS  AND  SPIRIT 

COLLEGE  life  in  America  is  rich  in 
traditions.  Customs  are  handed  down 
class  by  class  and  year  by  year  until 
finally  they  acquire  the  force  of  law.  Each  col- 
lege and  university  has  a  community  life  and  a 
character  of  its  own. 

The  spirit  of  each  institution  abides  within  its 
walls.  It  cannot  be  invaded  by  an  outsider,  or 
ever  completely  understood  by  one  who  has  not 
grown  up  in  it.  The  atmosphere  of  a  college 
community  is  conservative.  It  is  the  outcome 
of  generations  of  student  custom  and  thought, 
which  have  resolved  themselves  into  distinct 
grooves. 

It  requires  a  thorough  understanding  of  the 
customs  of  college  men,  their  antics  and  pranks, 
to  appreciate  the  fact  that  the  performers  are 
simply  boys,  cariying  on  the  traditions  of  those 
gone  before.  Gray-haired  graduates  who  know 
by  experience  what  is  embodied  in  college  spirit, 
join  feelingly  in  the  old  customs  of  their  college 
days,  and  in  observing  the  new  customs  which 
have  grown  out  of  the  old. 

These  traditional  customs,  some  of  them  hu- 

164 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         165 

morous,  and  others  deeply  moving  in  their  senti- 
ment, are  among  the  first  things  that  impress 
the  freshman.  He  does  not  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  them  at  once,  nor  does  he  realize  that 
they  are  the  product  of  generations  of  students, 
but  he  soon  learns  that  there  is  something  more 
powerful  in  college  life  than  the  brick  and  mor- 
tar of  beautiful  buildings,  or  high  passing  marks 
in  the  classroom.  When  he  comes  to  know  the 
value  and  the  underlying  spirit  of  the  traditions 
of  his  college,  he  treasures  them  among  the  en- 
during memories  of  his  Hfe. 

The  business  man  who  never  enjoyed  the 
advantage  of  going  to  college,  is  puzzled  as  he 
witnesses  the  demonstration  of  undergraduate 
life,  and  he  fails  to  catch  the  meaning;  he  does 
not  understand ;  it  has  played  no  part  in  his  own 
experience;  college  customs  seem  absurd  to  him, 
and  he  fails  to  appreciate  that  in  these  traditions 
our  American  college  spirit  finds  expression. 

As  an  outsider  views  the  result  of  a  football 
victory,  he  sees  perhaps  only  the  bitter  look  of 
defeat  on  the  losers'  faces,  and  is  at  a  loss  to 
understand  the  loyal  spirit  of  thousands  of 
graduates  and  undergraduates  who  stand  and 
cheer  their  team  after  defeat.  Such  a  sight,  un- 
doubtedly, impresses  him;  but  he  turns  his  at- 
tention to  the  triumphant  march  of  the  victorious 
sympathizers  around  the  field  and  watches  the 
winners  being  borne  aloft  by  hero  worshipers; 
while  hats  by  the  thousands  are  being  tossed  over 


166  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  cross  bar  of  the  goal  post  that  carried  the  win- 
ning play. 

The  snake  dance  of  thousands  of  exulting  stu- 
dents enlivens  the  scene — the  spirit  of  glorious 
victory  breaks  loose. 

After  the  Harvard  victory  in  1908,  in  the 
midst  of  the  excitement,  a  Harvard  graduate  got 
up  from  his  seat,  climbed  over  the  fence,  put  his 
derby  hat  and  bull-dog  pipe  on  the  grass,  vralked 
solemnly  out  a  few  paces,  turned  two  complete 
handsprings,  walked  back,  put  on  his  hat,  picked 
up  his  pipe,  climbed  solemnly  over  the  fence  again 
and  took  his  place  in  the  crowd.  He  was  very 
business-like  about  it  and  didn't  say  a  word.  He 
had  to  get  it  out  of  his  system — that  was  all.  No- 
body laughed  at  him. 

One  sees  gray-haired  men  stand  and  cheer, 
sing  and  enthuse  over  their  Alma  Mater's  team. 
For  the  moment  the  rest  of  the  world  is  forgot- 
ten. Tears  come  with  defeat  to  those  on  the 
grandstand,  as  well  as  to  the  players,  and  hke- 
wise  happy  smiles  and  joyous  greetings  come 
when  victory  crowns  the  day. 

In  the  midst  of  a  crisis  in  the  game,  men  and 
women,  old  and  young,  break  over  the  bounds  of 
conventionality,  get  acquainted  with  their  seat 
mates  and  share  the  general  excitement.  The 
thrill  of  victory  possesses  them  and  the  old  grads 
embrace  each  other  after  a  winning  touchdown. 

There  may  be  certain  streets  in  a  college  town 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         167 

upon  which  a  freshman  is  never  seen.  It  may  be 
that  a  freshman  has  to  wear  a  certain  kind  of  cap ; 
his  trousers  must  not  be  rolled  up  at  the  bottom. 
And  if  you  should  see  a  freshman  standing  on  a 
balcony  at  night,  singing  some  foolish  song,  with 
a  crowd  of  sophomores  standing  below,  you  smile 
as  you  realize  that  you  are  witnessing  the  per- 
formance of  some  college  custom. 

And  if  you  see  a  young  man  dressed  in  an 
absm-d  fantastic  costume,  going  about  the  streets 
of  a  city,  or  a  quiet  college  town,  it  may  mean 
an  initiation  into  a  certain  society  or  club,  and 
you  will  note  that  he  does  his  part  with  a  quiet, 
earnest  look  upon  his  face,  realizing  that  he  is 
carrying  on  a  tradition  which  has  endured  for 
years. 

You  hear  the  seniors  singing  on  the  campus, 
while  the  whole  college  hstens.  It  is  their  hour. 
At  games  you  see  the  cheer  leaders  take  their 
places  in  front  of  the  grandstand,  and  as  they 
bend  and  double  themselves  into  all  sorts  of 
shapes,  they  bring  out  the  cheers  which  go  to 
make  college  spirit  strong. 

If  you  were  at  Yale,  on  what  is  kno^\Ti  as  "Tap 
Day,"  you  would  view  in  wonderment  the  sol- 
emnity and  seriousness  of  the  occasion.  An  elec- 
tion to  a  senior  society  is  Yale's  highest  honor. 
As  you  sit  on  the  old  Yale  fence  you  realize  what 
it  means  to  Yale  men.  In  the  secret  life  of  the 
campus  men  yearn  most  for  this  honor  and  the 


168  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

traditional  gathering  of  seniors  under  the  oak 
tree  for  receiving  elections  is  a  college  custom  that 
has  all  the  binding  force  of  a  most  rigid  law. 

ALUMNI   PARADES 

Then  come  the  alumni  parades  at  Commence- 
ment. The  old  timers  head  the  procession ;  those 
who  came  first,  are  first  in  line,  and  so  on  down 
to  the  youngest  and  most  recent  graduate. 

There  are  many  interesting  things  in  the 
parade,  which  bring  out  specific  class  peculiarities. 
In  one  college  you  may  see  gray-haired  men  walk- 
ing behind  an  immense  Sacred  Bird,  as  it  is 
called.  This  Bird — the  creation  of  an  ingenious 
mind — is  the  size  of  an  ostrich  and  has  all  the 
semblance  of  life,  with  many  lifelike  tricks  and 
habits. 

Men  dress  in  all  sorts  of  costumes.  This  is 
a  day  in  which  each  class  has  some  peculiar  part, 
and  all  are  united  in  the  one  big  thought  that 
it  is  a  cherished  college  custom. 

You  may  see  some  man  with  the  letter  of  his 
college  on  his  sweater,  another  may  have  his  class 
numerals,  another  may  wear  a  gold  football. 
These  are  not  ordinary  things  to  be  purchased 
at  sporting  goods  stores;  they  are  a  reward  of 
merit.  The  college  custom  has  made  it  so,  and 
if  in  some  college  town  the  traditions  of  the  uni- 
versity are  such  that  a  man,  as  he  passes  the 
Ma  Newell  gateway  at  Cambridge  raises  his  hat 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         169 

in  honor  of  this  great  Harvard  hero,  it  is  a  tra- 
dition backed  up  by  a  wonderful  spirit  of  love 
towards  one  who  has  gone.  And  then  on  Com- 
mencement Day  when  the  seniors  plant  their  class 
ivy — that  is  a  token  to  remain  behind  them  and 
iSourish  long  after  they  are  out  in  the  wide,  wide 
world. 

College  tradition  makes  it  possible  for  a  poor 
boy  to  get  an  education.  The  poor  fellow  may 
wait  on  the  table,  where  sit  many  rich  men's  sons, 
but  they  may  be  all  chums  with  him ;  they  are  on 
the  same  footing;  the  campus  of  one  is  the  cam- 
pus of  the  other,  and  all  you  can  say  is  "It  is  just 
the  way  of  things — just  the  way  it  must  be." 
More  power  to  the  man  who  works  his  way 
through  college. 

It  may  be,  as  fellow  college  man,  you  are 
now  recalling  some  custom  that  is  carried  out  on 
a  college  street,  in  a  dormitory,  in  a  fraternity 
house,  perhaps,  or  a  club ;  perhaps  in  some  board- 
ing house,  where  you  had  your  first  introduction 
to  a  college  custom ;  maybe  in  the  cheapest  room- 
ing house  in  town  you  got  your  first  impression 
of  a  bold,  bad  sophomore.  You  probably  could 
have  given  him  a  good  trouncing  had  he  been 
alone,  and  yet  you  were  prepared  to  take  smil- 
ingly the  hazing  imposed  upon  j^ou. 

Maybe  some  of  you  fondly  recall  a  cannon 
stuck  in  the  ground  behind  a  historical  building 
where  once  George  Washington  had  his  head- 


170  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

quarters.  Around  about  this  traditional  monu- 
ment cluster  rich  memories  as  you  review  the 
many  college  ceremonies  enacted  there. 

Some  of  you,  owing  allegiance  to  a  New  Eng- 
land Alma  Mater,  may  recall  with  smiles  and 
perhaps  mischievous  satisfaction,  the  chequered 
career  of  the  sculptured  Sabrina  in  her  various 
appearances  and  disappearances  since  the  day, 
now  long  gone  by,  when  in  pedestaled  repose  she 
graced  the  college  flower  gardens.  The  Sabrina 
tradition  is  one  of  the  golden  legacies  of  Amherst 
life. 

In  the  formation  of  college  spirit  and  tradi- 
tions I  am  not  unmindful  of  the  tremendous 
moulding  power  of  the  college  president  or  the 
popular  college  professors.  This  is  strikingly 
illustrated  in  the  expression  of  an  old  college 
man,  who  said  in  this  connection : 

"I   don't  remember  a  thing  Professor  

said,  but  I  remember  him." 

When  the  graduate  of  a  college  has  sons  of  his 
own,  he  realizes  more  fully  than  at  any  other 
time  the  great  influence  of  personality  upon 
youth.  He  understands  better  the  problems  that 
are  faced  by  boys,  and  the  great  task  and 
responsibility  of  the  faculty. 

I  know  that  there  are  many  football  men  who 
at  different  times  in  their  career  have  not  always 
praised  the  work  of  the  college  professors,  but 
now  that  the  games  are  over  they  probably  look 
back  affectionately  to  the  men  who  made  them 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         171 

toe  the  mark,  and  by  such  earnestness  helped 
them  through  their  college  career. 

It  is  undoubtedly  ti-ue  that  the  head  masters 
and  teachers  in  our  preparatory  schools  and  col- 
leges generally  appreciate  the  importance  of  de- 
veloping the  whole  man,  mental,  moral  and 
physical. 

SCHOOLMASTER  AND  BOY 

Indeed  it  is  a  wonderful  privilege  to  work 
shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  boys  in  our  prepar- 
atoiy  schools  as  well  as  in  our  colleges.  At  a 
recent  dinner  I  heard  Doctor  S.  J.  JNIcPherson, 
of  the  Lawrenceville  School,  place  before  an 
alumni  gathering  a  sentiment,  which  I  believe  is 
the  sentiment  of  every  worthy  schoolmaster  in 
our  land. 

"Schoolmasters  have  attractive  work  and  they 
can  find  no  end  of  fun  in  it.  I  admit  that  in  a 
boarding  school  they  should  be  willing  to  spend 
themselves,  eight  days  in  the  week  and  twenty- 
five  hours  a  day.  But  no  man  goes  far  that 
keeps  watching  the  clock.  There  may  be  good 
reasons  for  long  vacations,  but  I  regard  the  sum- 
mer vacation  as  usually  a  bore  for  at  least  half 
the  length  of  it. 

"To  be  worth  his  salt,  a  schoolmaster  must,  of 
course,  have  scholarship — the  more  the  better. 
But  that  alone  will  never  make  him  a  quickening 
teacher.  He  must  be  'apt  to  teach,'  and  must 
lose  himself  in  his  task  if  he  is  to  transfuse  his 


172  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

blood  into  the  veins  of  boys.  Above  all,  he  must 
be  a  real  man  and  not  a  manikin,  and  he  must 
enjoy  his  boys — love  them,  without  being  quite 
conscious  of  the  love,  or  at  least  without  harping 
on  it. 

"The  ideal  schoolmaster  needs  five  special  and 
spiritual  senses:  common  sense,  the  sense  of  jus- 
tice, the  sense  of  honor,  the  sense  of  youth  and 
the  sense  of  humor.  These  five  gifts  are  very 
useful  in  every  worthy  occupation. 

"Gentlemen,  none  of  us  schoolmasters  has 
reached  the  ideal;  however,  we  reach  after  it. 
Nevertheless,  we  neither  need,  nor  desire  your 
pity.  We  do  not  feel  unimportant.  Personally, 
I  would  not  exchange  jobs  with  the  richest  or 
greatest  among  you.  I  like  my  own  job.  It 
really  looks  to  me,  bigger  and  finer.  I  should 
rather  have  the  right  mold  and  put  the  right 
stamp  on  a  wholesome  boy  than  to  do  any  other 
thing.  It  counts  more  for  the  world  and  is  more 
nearly  immortal.     It  is  worth  any  man's  life." 

Another  factor  in  the  formation  and  develop- 
ment of  college  traditions  and  college  spirit  is 
the  influence  of  the  men  who  shape  the  athletic 
policy. 

When  one  of  the  graduates  returns  to  direct 
the  athletic  affairs  of  his  Alma  Mater,  or  those 
of  another  college  he  naturally  becomes  a  potent 
influence  in  the  life  of  the  students.  Great  is  his 
opportunity  for  character  making.  The  men  all 
look  up  to  him  and  the  spirit  of  hero  worship  is 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         173 

present  everywhere.  Such  athletic  directors  are 
chosen  largely  because  of  their  success  on  the 
athletic  field.  And  when  one  can  combine  ath- 
letic directorship  with  scholastic  knowledge,  the 
combination  is  doubly  effective. 

By  association  they  know  the  real  spirit  and 
patriotic  sentiment  of  the  college  men.  They 
appreciate  the  fact  that  success  in  athletics,  hke 
success  in  life,  depends  not  merely  upon  training 
the  head,  but  upon  training  the  will.  Huxley 
said  that: 

"The  true  object  of  all  education,  was  to 
develop  abihty  to  do  the  thing  that  ought  to  be 
done  when  it  ought  to  be  done,  whether  one  felt 
like  doing  it  or  not." 

Prompt  obedience  to  rules  and  regulations  de- 
velop character  and  the  athletic  director  becomes, 
therefore,  one  of  the  most  important  of  college 
instructors.  A  boy  may  be  a  welcher  in  his  class- 
room work,  but  when  he  gets  out  on  the  athletic 
field  and  meets  the  eye  of  a  man  who  is  bound  to 
get  the  most  out  of  every  player  for  the  sake  of 
his  own  reputation,  as  well  as  the  reputation  of 
the  school  or  college,  that  boy  finds  himself  in  a 
new  school.  It  is  the  school  of  disciphne  that 
resembles  more  nearly  than  anything  else  the 
competitive  struggle  in  the  business  life  of  the 
outside  world  that  he  is  soon  to  enter. 

Another  exceedingly  valuable  trait  that  athletic 
life  develops  in  a  student  is  the  spirit  of  honorable 
victory.     The  player  is  taught  to  win,  to  be  sure. 


174  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

but  he  is  also  taught  that  victory  must  never  over- 
shadow honor. 

Wlio  misses  or  who  wins  the  prize, 
Go  lose,  or  conquer,  as  you  can 
But  if  you  fail,  or  if  you  rise. 
Be  each,  Pray  God,  a  gentleman. 

This  tradition  and  atmosphere  cannot  be  re- 
tained in  institutions  merely  by  the  efforts  of  the 
students.  The  co-operation  of  the  alumni  is 
necessary.  On  this  account  it  is  unfortunate  that 
the  point  of  view  of  too  many  college  men  re- 
garding their  Alma  Mater  is  limited  to  the  years 
of  their  own  school  and  college  days. 

Our  universities  especially  are  beginning  to 
learn  that  this  has  been  a  great  mistake  and  that 
the  continued  interest  and  loyalty  of  the  alumni 
are  absolutely  essential  to  insure  progress  and 
maintain  the  high  standard  of  an  institution. 
There  is,  in  other  words,  a  real  sense  in  which  the 
college  belongs  to  the  alumni.  The  faculty  is 
engaged  for  a  specific  purpose  and  their  great 
work  is  made  much  more  profitable  by  the  hearty 
co-operation  of  the  old  and  young  graduates  who 
keep  in  close  touch  with  the  happenings  and  the 
spirit  of  their  different  alma  maters. 

One  of  the  best  assets  in  any  seat  of  learning 
is  the  constructive  criticism  of  the  alumni. 
Broad  minded  faculties  invite  intelligent  criti- 
cism from  the  graduate  body,  and  they  usually 
get  it. 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         175 

But  after  all,  the  real  power  of  enthusiasm  be- 
hind college  traditions  abides  in  the  student  body 
itself.  How  is  this  college  patriotism  aroused? 
What  are  its  manifestations?  What  is  it  that 
awakens  the  desire  for  victory  with  honor,  which 
is  the  real  background  of  the  great  football 
demonstration  that  tens  of  thousands  of  Amer- 
icans witness  each  year? 

As  I  think  back  in  this  connection  upon  my  own 
college  experiences,  the  athletic  mass  meeting 
stands  out  in  my  memoiy  and  records  the  moment 
when  all  that  was  best  and  strongest  in  my  fight- 
ing spu'it  and  manliood  came  out  to  meet  the 
demand  of  the  athletic  leaders.  It  was  at  that 
time  that  the  thrill  and  power  of  college  spirit 
took  mighty  possession  of  me.  It  might  have 
been  the  inspiring  words  of  an  old  college  leader 
addressing  us,  or  perhaps  it  was  the  story  of  some 
incident  that  brought  out  the  deep  significance  of 
the  coming  game.  Indeed  I  have  often  thought 
that  the  spirit  of  loyalty  and  sacrifice  aroused  in 
the  breast  of  the  young  man  in  a  college  mass 
meeting  springs  from  the  same  noble  source  as 
the  highest  patriotism. 

MASS   MEETING  ENTHUSIASM 

How  well  do  I  recall  the  mass  meeting  held  by 
the  undergraduates  in  Alexander  Hall  Thursday 
night  before  the  Yale  game  in  1898!  The  team 
and  substitutes  sat  in  the  front  row  of  seats. 
There  was  singing  and  cheering  that  aroused 


176  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

every  man  in  the  room  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
enthusiasm.  All  eyes  were  focused  on  the  cheer 
leader  as  he  rehearsed  the  cheers  and  songs  for 
the  game,  and  as  the  speakers  entered  behind  him 
on  the  platform,  they  received  a  royal  welcome. 
There  was  Johnny  Poe,  Alex  Moffat,  some  of 
the  professors,  including  Jack  Hibben,  since 
president  of  Princeton,  in  addition  to  the  coaches. 

I  can  almost  hear  again  their  words,  as  they 
addressed  the  gathering. 

*'Fellows,  we  are  here  to-night  to  get  ready  to 
defeat  Yale  on  Saturday.  You  men  all  know 
how  hard  the  coaches  have  worked  this  year  to  get 
the  team  ready  for  the  last  big  game.  Captain 
Hillebrand  and  his  men  know  that  the  college  is 
with  the  team  to  a  man.  We  are  not  here  to- 
night to  make  college  spirit,  but  we  are  here  to 
demonstrate  it. 

"Those  of  you  who  saw  last  year's  team  go 
down  to  defeat  at  New  Haven,  reahze  that  the 
Princeton  team  this  year  has  got  to  square  that 
defeat.  Garry  Cochran  and  the  other  men  who 
graduated  are  not  here  to  play.  The  burden 
rests  on  the  shoulders  of  the  men  in  front  of 
me,  this  year's  team,  and  we  know  what  they're 
going  to  do. 

"It  is  going  to  take  the  hardest  kind  of  work 
to  beat  Yale  on  our  own  grounds.  We  must 
play  them  off  their  feet  the  first  five  min- 
utes. I  wonder  if  you  men  who  are  in 
Princeton  to-day  truly  reahze  the  great  tra- 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         177 

dition  of  this  dear  college.  Thousands  and 
thousands  of  young  men  have  walked  across  the 
same  campus  you  travel.  The  Princeton  of  years 
gone  by,  is  your  Princeton  to-day,  so  let  us  ever 
hold  a  high  regard  for  those  whose  places  we  now 
occupy. 

"Already  from  far  off  points,  Princeton  men 
are  starting  back  to  see  the  Yale  game — back  to 
their  Alma  Mater.  They're  coming  back  to  see 
the  old  rooms  they  used  to  live  in,  and  it  is  up  to 
us  to  make  their  visit  a  memorable  one.  You 
can  do  that  by  beating  Yale." 

George  K.  Edwards 

Many  of  you  men  have  perhaps  heard  of  the 
great  love  for  Princeton  shown  in  the  story  of 
the  last  days  of  Horse  Edwards,  Princeton  '89. 
He  will  never  return  to  Princeton  again.  He 
used  to  live  in  East  College,  long  since  torn  down. 
Some  years  after  he  left  college,  he  was  told  that 
he  had  but  a  few  short  months  to  live.  He  de- 
cided to  live  them  out  at  Princeton. 

One  Friday  afternoon  in  the  summer  of  1897, 
Horse  Edwards  arrived  in  Princeton  from  Colo- 
rado. He  was  very  weak  from  his  illness.  He 
could  barely  raise  his  hand  to  wave  to  the  host 
of  old  friends  who  greeted  him  as  he  drove  from 
the  station  to  East  College,  where  his  old  room 
had  been  arranged  as  in  his  college  daj^s  for  his 
return. 

There  he  was  visited  by  many  friends  of  the 


178  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

old  days,  who  had  come  back  for  Commencement. 
Old  memories  were  revived.  That  night  he  at- 
tended his  club  dinner,  and  the  following  day  was 
wheeled  out  to  the  field  to  see  the  baseball  game, 
Princeton  beat  Yale  16  to  8,  and  his  cup  of  hap- 
piness was  overflowing.  On  the  following  Mon- 
day Horse  Edwards  died.  He  told  his  close 
friends  that  as  long  as  he  had  to  go,  he  was  happy 
that  he  had  been  granted  his  last  wish — to  die 
there  at  Princeton.  And  his  memory  is  a  treas- 
ured college  tradition. 

Job  E.  Hedges 

Among  the  men  who  are  always  welcome  at 
Princeton  mass  meetings  and  dinners,  is  Job  E. 
Hedges.  I  remember  what  he  said  at  a  mass 
meeting  at  Princeton  in  1896.  He  was  then 
secretary  to  Mayor  Strong,  in  New  York,  in 
which  city  the  game  with  Yale  took  place  that 
year. 

The  scene  was  in  the  old  gymnasium.  Every 
inch  of  space  was  occupied.  On  the  front  seats 
sat  the  team  and  substitutes.  Around  them  and 
in  the  small  gallery  were  the  students  in  mass. 
Before  the  team  were  prominent  alumni,  trustees 
and  some  members  of  the  faculty.  Earnest  ap- 
peal had  been  made  by  the  various  speakers 
tending  to  arouse  the  team  to  a  high  point  of 
enthusiasm  and  courage,  and  the  interest  of  their 
alma  mater  and  of  the  alumni  had  been  earnestly 
pictured.     Mr.  Hedges  was  called  on  as  he  fre- 


COLLEGE  TRADITIONS         179 

quently  is  at  Princeton  gatherings  and  as  the 
usual  field  had  been  fairly  covered,  his  opportun- 
ities were  limited,  without  repetition  of  what  had 
been  said.  He  addressed  the  team  and  substi- 
tutes in  typical  Princeton  fashion  and  concluded, 
so  far  as  a  record  is  made  of  it,  somewhat  as 
follows : 

"There  is  a  feeling  in  the  public  mind  that  foot- 
ball games  breed  dissipation  and  are  naturally 
followed  by  unseemly  conduct.  We  all  know 
that  much  of  the  excitement  following  football 
games  in  New  York  is  due  largel}-  not  to  college 
men  but  others,  who  take  the  game  as  an  excuse 
and  the  time  as  an  opportunity  to  indulge  in  more 
or  less  boisterous  conduct,  with  freedom  from 
interference  usuallj'^  accorded  at  that  time.  I 
wish  it  thoroughly  understood  that  in  no  way  as 
a  Princeton  man  do  I  countenance  dissipation, 
intemperance,  boisterous  or  unseemly  conduct. 
It  may  be  a  comfort  for  you  men  to  know,  how- 
ever, that  I  am  personally  acquainted  with  every 
police  magistrate  in  the  City  of  New  York. 
While  I  do  not  claim  to  have  any  influence  with 
them,  nor  would  I  try  to  exercise  it  improperly, 
nevertheless  if  the  team  wins  and  any  man 
should  unintentionally  and  weakly  yield  to  the 
strain  consequent  upon  such  a  victory,  I  can  be 
found  that  night  at  my  residence.  Any  delin- 
quent will  have  my  sympathetic  and  best  eff'orts 
in  his  behalf.  If,  however,  the  team  loses,  and 
any  one  goes  over  the  line  of  propriety,  he  will 


180  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

have  from  me  neither  sympathy  nor  assistance 
and  I  shall  be  absent  from  the  city." 

It  is  related  that  on  the  night  following  the  vic- 
tory, several  daring  spirits  decorated  themselves 
with  cards  hung  from  their  necks  bearing  this 
legend,  "Don't  arrest  me,  I  am  a  friend  of  Job 
Hedges."  With  these  they  marched  up  and 
down  Broadway  and,  though  laboring  under 
somewhat  strange  conditions,  were  not  molested. 
A  full  account  of  this  expeditionary  force  ap- 
peared in  the  daily  papers  the  next  morning  and 
it  is  related  that  there  was  a  brisk  conversation 
between  Mr.  Hedges  and  the  mayor,  when  the 
former  arrived  at  the  City  Hall,  which  took  on, 
not  an  orange  and  black  hue,  but  rather  a  lurid 
flame,  of  which  Mayor  Strong  was  supposed  to 
be  but  was  not  the  victim. 

The  net  result  of  the  scene,  however,  was  that 
the  team  won,  there  was  a  moderate  celebration 
and  no  Princeton  man  was  arrested. 


JOHlNilSIY  POE,  FOOTBALL  PLAYEK  AND  SOLDIER 


CHAPTER  XI 
JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY 

JOHNNY  POE  was  a  member  of  the  Black 
Watch,  that  famous  Scotch  Regiment 
whose  battles  had  followed  the  English 
flag.  On  the  graves  of  the  Black  Watch  heroes 
the  sun  never  sets.  Jolmny  Poe's  death  came  on 
September  25th,  1915,  in  the  Battle  of  Loos. 
Nelson  Poe  has  given  me  the  following  informa- 
tion regarding  Johnny's  death.  It  comes  direct 
from  Private  W.  Faulkner,  a  comrade  who  was 
in  the  charge  when  Johnny  fell. 

"In  the  morning  during  the  attack  we  went 
out  on  a  party  carrying  bombs.  Poe  and  myself 
were  in  this  party.  We  had  gone  about  half 
way  across  an  open  field  when  Poe  was  hit  in  the 
stomach.  He  was  then  five  yards  in  front  of  me 
and  I  saw  him  fall.  As  he  fell  he  said,  'Never 
mind  me.  Go  ahead  with  our  boxes.'  On  our 
return  for  more  bombs  we  found  him  lying  dead. 
Shortly  after  he  was  buried  at  a  place  between 
the  British  and  German  lines.  I  have  seen  his 
grave  which  is  about  a  hundred  yards  to  the  left 
of  'Lone  Tree'  on  the  left  of  Loos.  'Lone  Tree' 
is  the  only  landmark  near.  The  grave  is  marked 
with  his  name  and  regiment. 

Just  what  Johnny  Poe's  heroic  finish  on  the 


182  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

battle  field  meant  to  us  here  at  home  is  the  com- 
mon knowledge  of  all  football  men  and  indeed  of 
all  sportsmen.  There  is  ample  evidence,  more- 
over, that  it  attracted  the  attention  of  the  four 
corners  of  the  earth.  Life  in  London  or  Paris 
was  not  all  roses  to  the  Americans  compelled  to 
remain  there  at  the  height  of  the  war. 

Paul  Mac  Whelan,  a  Yale  man  and  football 
writer,  had  occasion  to  be  in  London  shortly 
after  the  news  of  Poe's  death  in  battle  was  re- 
ceived there.  Talking  with  Whelan  after  his  re- 
turn he  impressed  upon  me  the  place  that  Poe 
had  made  for  himself  in  the  hearts  of  at  least  one 
of  the  fighting  countries. 

"You  know,"  said  he,  "that  at  about  that  time 
Americans  were  not  very  popular.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  feeling  everywhere  that  we  should 
have  been  on  the  firing  line.  This  feeling  de- 
veloped the  fashion  of  polite  jeering  to  a  point 
that  made  hfe  abroad  uncomfortable  until 
Johnny  Poe  fell  fighting  in  the  ranks  of  the 
Black  Watch  on  the  plains  of  Flanders.  In  the 
dull  monotony  of  the  casualty  list  his  name  at 
first  slipped  by  with  scant  mention.  It  was  the 
publication  in  the  United  States  of  the  story  of 
his  fighting  career  which  stimulated  newspaper 
interest  not  merely  in  England,  but  throughout 
the  British  Empire.  To  Australia,  Canada, 
New  Zealand  and  South  Africa — into  the 
farthest  corners  of  the  earth— went  the  tale  of  the 
death  of  a  great  American  fighter. 


JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY]    183 

*'I  met  one  man,  a  lawyer,  on  his  way  to  do 
some  peace  work,  and  he  told  me  that  he  thought 
Poe  had  no  right  to  be  in  the  ranks  of  a  foreign 
army.  Probably  most  of  the  pacifists  would  have 
returned  the  same  verdict  regardless  of  Poe's  love 
for  the  cause  of  the  Allies.  Yet  among  the  thou- 
sands of  Americans  in  Europe  in  the  month  fol- 
lowing Poe's  death,  there  was  complete  unity  of 
opinion  that  the  old  Princeton  football  star  had 
done  more  for  his  country  than  all  the  pacifists 
put  together. 

"  *A  toast  to  the  memory  of  Poe,'  said  one  of 
the  group  of  Americans  in  the  Savoy,  that  fa- 
mous gathering  place  of  Yankees  in  London. 
*His  death  has  made  living  a  lot  easier  for  his 
countrymen  who  have  to  be  in  France  and  Eng- 
land during  the  war.'  " 

"There  is  not  an  army  on  the  continent  in 
which  Americans  have  not  died,  but  no  death  in 
action,  not  even  that  of  Victor  Chapman  the 
famous  American  aviator  in  France,  gave  such 
timely  proof  of  American  valor  as  that  of  Poe. 
In  London  for  a  month  after  his  death  there  was 
talk  among  Americans  and  in  the  university  clubs 
about  raising  fimds  for  some  permanent  memo- 
rial in  London  to  Poe.  There  are  many  memo- 
rials to  Englishmen  in  America  and  it  would  seem 
that  there  is  a  place  and  a  real  reason  for  erecting 
a  memorial  in  London  to  a  fighting  American 
who  gave  his  life  for  a  cause  to  England." 

I  have  always  treasured,  in  my  football  collec- 


184  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

tion,  some  anecdotes  which  Johnny  Poe  wrote 
several  years  ago  while  in  Nevada.  In  fact,  from 
reading  his  stories,  after  his  death,  I  got  the  in- 
spiration that  prompted  me  to  write  this  book. 

"The  following  stories  were  picked  up  by  me," 
says  Johnny,  "through  the  course  of  college 
years,  and  after.  Some  of  the  incidents  I  have 
actually  witnessed,  of  others  my  brothers  have 
told  me,  when  we  talked  over  Princeton  vic- 
tories and  defeats  with  the  reasons  for  both,  and 
still  others  I  have  heard  from  the  lips  of  Prince- 
ton men  as  they  grew  reminiscent  sitting 
around  the  cozy  fireplace  in  the  Trophy  room  at 
the  Varsity  Club  House,  with  the  old  footballs, 
the  scores  of  many  a  hard  fought  Prince- 
ton victory  emblazoned  upon  them,  and  the 
banners  with  the  names  of  the  members  of 
the  winning  teams  thereon  inscribed  looking 
down  from  their  places  on  the  walls  and  ceil- 
ings. 

How  the  undergraduates  long  to  have  their 
names  enrolled  on  the  victorious  banner,  know- 
ing that  they  will  be  looked  up  to  by  future  col- 
lege generations  of  the  sons  of  Old  Nassau! 

These  old  banners  have  much  the  same  effect 
upon  Princeton  teams  as  did  the  name  of  Hora- 
tius  upon  the  young  Romans'! 

And  still  his  name  sounds  strong  unto  the 

men  of  Rome, 
[A.S  a  trumpet  blast  which  calls  to  them  to 

charge  the  Volsian  home ; 


JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY    185 

And  wives  still  pray  to  Juno  for  boys  with 

hearts  as  bold 
As  his  who  kept  the  bridge  so  well 
In  the  brave  days  of  old. 

Well  do  they  know  that  Mother  Princeton  is 
not  chary  of  her  praise,  when  she  knows  that 
they  have  planted  her  banner  on  the  loftiest  tower 
of  her  enemies'  stronghold. 

The  evenings  spent  in  the  Trophy  room,  the 
Grill  Room  of  the  Princeton  Inn  and  in  the  hall- 
ways around  a  cheerful  fire  of  the  numerous 
Princeton  clubs  make  me  think  of  nights  in  the 
Mess  room  of  crack  British  regiments,  so  graphi- 
cally described  by  Kipling. 

The  general  public  cannot  understand  the  se- 
riousness with  which  college  athletes  take  the  loss 
of  an  important  game.  There  is  a  Princeton 
football  Captain  who  was  so  broken  up  over  a  de- 
feat by  Yale  that,  months  after  on  the  cattle  range 
of  New  Mexico,  as  he  lay  out  at  night  on  his  cow- 
boy bed  and  thought  himself  unobserved,  he  fell 
to  sobbing  as  if  his  heart  would  break. 

A  football  victory  to  many  men  is  as  dearly 
longed  for  as  any  goal  of  ambition  in  life.  How 
else  would  they  strive  so  fiercely,  one  side  to  take 
the  ball  over,  the  other  to  prevent  them  doing  so  I 

Very  few  of  the  public  hear  the  exhortation 
and  cursing  as  the  ball  slowly  but  irresistibly  is 
rushed  to  the  goal  of  the  opponent. 

"Billy,  if  you  do  that  again  I'll  cut  your  heart 
outl" 


186  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"Yale,  if  you  ever  held,  hold  now!" 

How  the  calls  to  victory  come  back! 

As  Hughes  says  in  Tom  Brown's  School  Days, 
a  scrimmage  in  front  of  the  goal  posts,  or  the 
Consulship  of  Plancus,  is  no  child's  play. 

My  earliest  Princeton  football  hero  was  Alex 
Moffat  '84.  My  brother  Jolmson  was  in  his 
class  and  played  on  the  same  team,  and  would 
often  talk  of  him  to  my  brothers  and  to  me.  He 
used  to  give  us  a  sort  of 

"Listen  my  children  and  you  shall  hear 
Of  the  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere,  etc." 

Though  my  brother  is  a  small  man,  I  thought 
all  other  Princeton  players  must  be  9  cubits  and 
a  half,  or  as  a  reporter  once  said  of  Symmes  '92, 
center  rush  in  Princeton  team  of  '90  and  '91,  "An 
animated  whale,  broad  as  the  moral  law  and 
heavy  as  the  hand  of  fate."  I  consider  Alex 
Moffat  the  greatest  goal  kicker  college  football 
has  produced.  One  football  in  the  Princeton 
Trophy  room  has  on  it,  "Princeton  26,  Harvard 
7."  In  that  game  Moffat  kicked  five  goals  from 
the  field,  three  with  his  right  and  two  with  his  left 
foot,  besides  the  goals  from  the  touchdowns. 

A  Harvard  guard  made  the  remark  after  the 
third  goal,  "We  came  here  to  play  football,  not 
to  play  against  phenomenal  kicking." 

Princeton  men  cannot  help  feeling  that  Moffat 
should  have  been  allowed  a  goal  against  Yale  in 
his  Post-graduate  year  of  '84,  which  was  called 


JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY     187 

before  the  full  halves  had  been  played  and  decided 
a  draw,  Yale  being  ahead,  6  to  4.  Princeton 
claimed  it  but  the  Referee  said  he  didn't  see  it, 
which  caused  Moffat  to  exclaim — something. 

An  amusing  story  is  told  in  connection  with 
this  decision.  Quite  a  number  of  years  after  Jim 
Robinson  who  was  trainer  of  the  Princeton  team 
in  '84,  went  down  to  the  dock  to  see  his  brother 
off  for  Europe.  Looking  up  he  beheld  on  the 
deck  above,  the  man  who  had  refereed  the  '84 
game,  and  whom  he  had  not  seen  since,  "Smith," 
he  said,  "I  have  a  brother  on  this  boat,  but  I  hope 
she  sinks." 

Tilly  Lamar's  name  is  highly  honored  at 
Princeton,  not  only  because  he  won  the  '85  game 
against  Yale  by  a  run  of  about  90  yards,  but  be- 
cause he  died  trying  to  save  a  girl  from  drown- 
ing. Only  a  few  months  later,  in  the  summer  of 
'91,  Fred  Brokaw  '92,  was  drowned  at  Elberon 
while  trying  to  save  two  girls  from  the  ocean. 
Both  Lamar  and  Brokaw's  pictures  adorn  the 
walls  of  the  Varsity  Club  House. 

The  first  game  I  ever  saw  the  Princeton  Team 
play  was  with  Harvard  in  '88,  which  the  former 
won  18  to  6.  I  was  in  my  brother's  ('91)  room 
about  three  hours  and  a  half  before  the  game,  and 
Jere  Black  and  Channing,  the  half-backs,  were 
there.  As  Channing  left  he  remarked,  "Some- 
thing will  have  happened  before  I  get  back  to  this 
room  again,"  referring  to  the  game,  which  doubt- 
less made  him  a  bit  nervous. 


188  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

I  believe  he  was  no  more  nervous  ten  years 
after,  when  in  the  Rough  Riders  he  waited  for 
word  to  advance  up  that  bullet  swept  hill  before 
Santiago. 

'81  was  the  year  so  many  Divinity  stu- 
dents played  on  the  Varsity:  Hector  Cowan 
the  great  tackle,  Dick  Hodge  the  strategist,  Sam 
Hodge,  Bob  Speer,  and  I  think  Irvine ;  men  all, 
who  as  McCready  Sykes  said,  "Feared  God  and 
no  one  else."  Hector  Cowan  is  considered  one 
of  the  best  tackles  that  ever  wore  the  Orange  and 
Black  jersey.  While  rough,  he  was  never  a  dirty 
player. 

In  a  game  with  Wesleyan,  his  opponent  cried 
out  angrily,  "Keep  your  hands  for  pounding  on 
your  Bible,  don't  be  sticking  them  in  my  face." 
One  day  in  a  game  against  the  Scrub,  Cowan  had 
passed  everyone  except  the  full-back  and  was 
bearing  down  on  him  like  a  tornado,  when  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  full-back  the  latter  jumped 
aside  and  said  politely,  "Pass  on,  sir,  pass  on." 
Cowan  played  on  two  winning  teams,  '85  and  '89. 

In  '89  the  eligibility  rules  at  the  college  were 
not  as  strict  as  now,  so  as  Princeton  needed  a 
tackle,  Walter  Cash  who  had  played  on  Pennsyl- 
vania the  year  before,  was  sent  for  and  came  all 
the  way  from  Wyoming.  He  came  so  hurriedly 
that  his  wardrobe  consisted  of  two  6-shooters  and 
a  monte  deck  of  cards,  on  account  of  which  he 
was  dubbed  "Monte"  Cash.  Cash  was  not 
fond  of  attending  lectures,  and  once  the  faculty 


JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY    189 

had  him  up  before  them  and  told  him  what  a  dis- 
grace it  would  be  if  he  were  dropped  out  of  Col- 
lege. "It  may  be  in  the  East,  but  we  don't  think 
much  of  a  httle  thing  like  that  out  West,"  was 
his  reply.  Cash  was  in  the  Rough  Riders  and 
was  wounded  at  San  Juan. 

Sport  Donnelly  was  a  great  end  that  year. 
Heffelfinger  the  great  Yale  guard  who  is  prob- 
ably the  best  that  ever  played,  said  of  Donnelly, 
that  he  was  the  only  player  he  had  ever  seen  who 
could  slug  and  keep  his  eye  on  the  ball  at  the 
same  time.  The  following  story  is  often  told  of 
how  Donnelly  got  Rhodes  of  Yale  ruled  off  in 
'89.  Rhodes  had  hit  Channing  of  Princeton  in 
the  eye,  so  that  Donnelly  was  laying  for  him,  and 
when  Rhodes  came  through  the  line,  Donnelly 
grabbed  up  two  handsful  of  mud — it  was  a  very 
muddy  field — and  rubbed  them  in  his  face  and 
hollered,  "Mr.  Umpire,"  so  that  when  Rhodes, 
in  a  burst  of  righteous  indignation,  hit  him,  the 
Umpire  saw  it  and  promptly  ruled  Rhodes  from 
the  field. 

Snake  Ames  and  House  Janeway  played 
that  year,  and  as  the  latter  was  big — 210  pounds 
stripped — and  good  natured,  Ames  thought  that 
if  he  could  only  get  Janeway  angry  he  would 
play  even  better  than  usual,  so,  with  JNIachiavel- 
lian  craft,  he  said  to  him  before  the  Harvard 
game,  "House,  the  man  you  are  going  to  play 
against  to-morrow  insulted  your  girl.  I  heard 
him  do  it,  so  you  want  to  murder  him."     "All 


190  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

right,"  said  House,  ominously,  and  as  Princeton 
won,  41  to  15,  Jane  way  must  certainly  have 
helped  a  heap. 

George  played  center  for  Princeton  four  years, 
and  for  three  years  "Pa"  Corbin  and  George 
played  against  each  other,  and,  as  cow-boys  would 
say,  "sure  did  chew  each  other's  mane."  I  don't 
mean  slugged. 

My  brother  Edgar  '91  was  a  great  admirer  of 
George.  In  '88  Edgar  was  playing  in  the  scrub, 
and  George  broke  through  and  was  about  to 
make  a  tackle  when  the  former  knocked  one  of 
his  arms  down  as  it  was  outstretched  to  catch  it. 
George  missed  the  tackle  but  said  nothing.  A 
second  time  almost  identically  the  same  thing  oc- 
curred. This  time  he  remarked  grimly,  "Good 
trick  that,  Poe."  But  when  the  same  thing  hap- 
pened a  third  time  on  the  same  afternoon,  he  ex- 
claimed, "Poe,  if  you  weren't  so  small,  I'd  hit 
you." 

In  '89  Thomas  '90,  substitute  guard,  was 
highly  indignant  at  the  way  some  Boston  news- 
paper described  him.  "The  Princeton  men  were 
giants,  one  in  particular  was  picturesque  in  his 
grotesqueness.  He  was  6  feet  5  and,  when  he 
ran,  his  arms  and  legs  moved  up  and  down  hke 
the  piston  rods  of  an  engine." 

In  '90  Buck  Irvine  '88  brought  an  unknown 
team  to  Princeton,  Franklin  and  Marshall,  which 
he  coached,  and  they  scored  16  points  against  the 
Tigers.     And  though  the  latter  won,  33  to  16, 


JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY    191 

still  that  was  the  largest  score  ever  made  against 
Princeton  up  to  that  time.  They  did  it,  too,  by 
rushing,  which  was  all  the  more  to  their  credit. 

Victor  Harding,  Harvard,  and  Yup  Cook, 
Princeton  '89,  had  played  on  Andover  and  Exe- 
ter, respectively,  and  had  trouble  then,  so  four 
years  later  when  they  met,  one  on  Princeton  and 
the  other  on  Harvard,  they  had  more  trouble. 
Both  were  ruled  off  for  rough  work.  Cook 
picked  Harding  up  off  the  ground  and  slammed 
him  down  and  then  walked  off  the  field.  In  a 
few  minutes  Harding,  after  trying  to  trip  Ames, 
also  was  ruled  off.  That  was  the  net  result  of 
the  old  Andover-Exeter  feud. 

In  '91  Princeton  was  playing  Rutgers.  Those 
were  the  days  of  the  old  "V"  trick  in  starting  a 
game.  When  the  Orange  and  Black  guards  and 
centers  tore  up  the  Rutgers'  V  it  was  found  that 
the  Captain  of  the  latter  team  had  broken  his  leg 
in  the  crush.  He  showed  great  nerve,  for  while 
sitting  on  the  ground  waiting  for  a  stretcher,  he 
remarked  in  a  nonchalant  way,  "Give  me  a 
cigarette.  I  could  die  for  Old  Rutgers,"  his  tone 
being  "Me  first  and  then  Nathan  Hale."  One 
version  quite  prevalent  around  Princeton  has  it 
that  a  Tiger  player  rushed  up  and  exclaimed, 
"Die  then."  This  is  not  true  as  I  played  in  that 
game  and  know  whereof  I  speak. 

Fifteen  years  after  that  had  happened,  I  met 
Phil  Brett  who  had  captained  the  Rutgers  Team 
that  day,  and  he  told  me  that  his  hfe  had  been  a 


192  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

burden  to  him  at  times,  and  like  Job,  he  felt  like 
cursing  God  and  dying,  because  often  upon  com- 
ing into  a  cafe  or  even  a  hotel  dining-room  some 
half  drunken  acquaintance  would  yell  out, 
"Hello,  Phil,  old  man,  could  you  die  for  dear  Old 
Rutgers  ?" 

Several  years  ago  while  in  the  Kentucky  Mili- 
tia in  connection  with  one  of  those  feud  cases,  I 
was  asked  by  a  private  if  I  were  related  to  Edgar 
Allan  Poe,  "De  mug  what  used  to  write  poetry," 
and  when  I  replied,  "Yes,  he  was  my  grand- 
mother's first  cousin,"  he,  evidently  thinking  I 
was  too  boastful,  remarked,  "Well,  man,  you've 
got  a  swell  chance." 

So,  knowing  that  the  football  season  is  near  I 
think  I  have  a  "swell  chance"  to  tell  some  of  the 
old  football  stories  handed  down  at  Princeton 
from  college  generation  to  generation.  If  I 
have  hurt  any  old  Princeton  players'  feelings,  I 
do  humbly  ask  pardon  and  assure  them  that  it  is 
unintentional;  for  as  the  Indians  would  put  it, 
my  heart  is  warm  toward  them,  and,  when  I  die, 
place  my  hands  upon  my  chest  and  put  their 
hands  between  my  hands. 

With  apologies  to  Kipling  in  his  poem  when 
he  speaks  of  the  parting  of  the  Colonial  troops 
with  the  Regulars: 

"There  isn't  much  we  haven't  shared 
For  to  make  the  Elis  run. 
The  same  old  hurts,  the  same  old  breaks. 
The  same  old  rain  and  sun. 


JOHNNY  POE'S  OWN  STORY     193 

The  same  old  chance  which  knocked  us  out 

Or  winked  and  let  us  through. 
The  same  old  joy,  the  same  old  sorrow, 

Good-bye,  good  luck  to  you." 


CHAPTER  XII 
ARMY  AND  NAVY 

When  the  Navy  meets  the  Army, 

When  the  friend  becomes  the  foe. 
When  the  sailor  and  the  soldier 

Seek  each  other  to  o'erthrow ; 
When  old  vet'rans,  gray  and  grizzled, 

Elbow,  struggle,  push,  and  shove. 
That  they  may  cheer  on  to  vict'ry 

Each  the  service  of  his  love ; 
When  the  maiden,  fair  and  dainty. 

Lets  her  dignity  depart. 
And,  all  breathless,  does  her  utmost 

For  the  team  that's  next  her  heart ; 
When  you  see  these  strange  things  happen. 

Then  we  pray  you  to  recall 
That  the  Army  and  Navy 

Stand  firm  friends  beneath  it  all. 

THERE  is  a  distinctive  flavor  about  an 
Army-NTavy  football  game  which,  irre- 
spective of  the  quality  of  the  contending 
elevens  and  of  their  relative  standing  among  the 
high-class  teams  in  any  given  season,  rates  these 
contests  annually  as  among  the  "big  games"  of 
the  year.  Tactically  and  strategically  football 
bears  a  close  relation  to  war.     That  is  a  vital  rea- 

194 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  195 

son  why  it  should  be  studied  and  applied  in  our 
two  government  schools. 

On  the  part  of  the  public  there  is  general  ap- 
preciation of  the  spirit  which  these  two  academies 
have  brought  into  the  great  autumn  sport,  a 
spirit  which  combines  with  football  per  se  the 
color,  the  martial  pomp,  the  elan  of  the  mihtary. 
The  merger  is  a  happy  one,  because  football  in 
its  essence  is  a  stern,  grim  game,  a  game  that  calls 
for  self-sacrifice,  for  mental  alertness  and  for  en- 
durance; all  these  are  elements,  among  others, 
which  we  commonly  associate  with  the  soldier's 
calling. 

If  West  Point  and  Annapolis  players  are  not 
young  men,  who,  after  graduation,  will  go  out 
into  the  world  in  various  civil  professions  or 
other  pursuits  relating  to  commerce  and  indus- 
try, they  are  men,  on  the  contrary,  who  are  being 
trained  to  uphold  the  honor  of  our  flag  at  home 
or  abroad,  as  fate  may  decree — fighting  men 
whose  hves  are  to  be  devoted  to  the  National  weal. 
It  would  be  strange,  therefore,  if  games  in  which 
those  thus  set  apart  participate,  were  not 
marked  by  a  quality  peculiarly  their  own.  To 
far-flung  warships  the  scores  are  sent  on  the 
wings  of  the  wireless  and  there  is  elation  or  de- 
pression in  many  a  remote  wardroom  in  accord- 
ance with  the  aspect  of  the  news.  In  lonely  army 
posts  wherever  the  flag  flies  word  of  the  annual 
struggle  is  flashed  alike  to  colonel  and  the  bud- 
ding second  lieutenant  still  with  down  on  lip. 


196  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

by  them  passed  to  the  top  sergeant  and  so  on  to 
the  bottom  of  the  line. 

Every  football  player  who  has  had  the  good 
fortune  to  visit  West  Point  or  Annapolis,  there 
to  engage  in  a  gridiron  contest,  has  had  an  expe- 
rience that  he  will  always  cherish.  Every  team, 
as  a  rule,  looks  forward  to  out  of  town  trips,  but 
when  an  eleven  is  to  play  the  Army  or  the  Navy, 
not  a  little  of  the  pleasure  lies  in  anticipation. 

Mayhap  the  visitor  even  now  is  recalling  the 
officer  who  met  him  at  the  station,  and  his  hos- 
pitable welcome;  the  thrill  that  resulted  from  a 
tour,  under  such  pleasant  auspices,  of  the  build- 
ings and  the  natural  surroundings  of  the  two 
great  academies.  There  was  the  historic  campus, 
where  so  many  great  Army  and  Navy  men  spent 
their  preparatory  days.  An  inspiration  unique 
in  the  experience  of  the  visitor  was  to  be  found 
in  the  drill  of  the  battalion  as  they  marched  past, 
led  by  the  famous  academy  bands. 

There  arose  in  the  heart  of  the  stranger  per- 
haps, the  thought  that  he  was  not  giving  to  his 
country  as  much  as  these  young  men.  Such  is 
the  contagion  of  the  spirit  of  the  two  institutions. 
There  is  always  the  thrill  of  the  military  whether 
the  cadets  and  midshipmen  pass  to  the  urge  of 
martial  music  in  their  purely  military  duties,  or 
in  equally  perfect  order  to  the  ordinary  functions 
of  life,  such  as  the  daily  meals,  which  in  the  col- 
leges are  so  informal  and  in  the  mess  hall  are  so 
precise.    Joining  their  orderly  ranks  in  this  big 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  197 

dining-room  one  comes  upon  a  scene  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

In  the  process  of  developing  college  teams,  an 
eleven  gets  a  real  test  at  either  of  these  acad- 
emies ;  you  get  what  you  go  after ;  they  are  out  to 
beat  you ;  their  spirit  is  an  indomitable  one ;  your 
cherished  idea  that  you  cannot  be  beaten  never 
occurs  to  them  until  the  final  whistle  is  blo^\Ti. 
Your  men  will  realize  after  the  game  that  a 
bruised  leg  or  a  lame  joint  will  recall  hard  tac- 
kling of  a  player  like  Mustin  of  the  Navy,  or 
Arnold  of  West  Point,  souvenirs  of  the  dash  they 
put  into  their  play.  JNIaybe  there  comes  to  your 
mind  a  recollection  of  the  Navy's  fast  offense; 
their  snappy  play;  the  military  precision  with 
which  their  work  is  done.  Possibly  you  dream 
of  the  wriggling  open  field  running  of  Snake 
Izard,  or  the  bulwark  defense  of  Nichols;  or  in 
your  West  Point  experiences  you  are  reminded 
of  the  tussle  you  had  in  suppressing  the  brilliant 
Kromer,  that  clever  httle  quarterback  and  field 
general,  or  the  task  of  stopping  the  forging  King, 
the  Army's  old  captain  and  fullback. 

Not  less  vivid  are  the  memories  of  the  sponta- 
neous if  measured  cheering  behind  these  men — a 
whole-hearted  support  that  was  at  once  the  back- 
ground and  the  incentive  to  their  work.  The 
"Siren  Cheer"  of  the  Na^y  and  the  "Long 
Corps  Yell"  of  the  Arnw  still  ringing  in  the  ears 
of  the  college  invader  were  proof  of  the  drive  be- 
hind the  team. 


198  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

I  have  always  counted  it  a  privilege  that  I 
was  invited  to  coach  at  Annapolis  through  sev- 
eral football  seasons.  It  was  an  unrivalled  op- 
portunity to  catch  the  spirit  that  permeates  the 
atmosphere  of  this  great  Service  school  and  to 
realize  how  eagerly  the  progress  of  football  is 
watched  bj^  the  heroes  of  the  past  who  are  serving 
wherever  duty  calls. 

It  was  there  that  I  met  Superintendent  Wain- 
wright.  His  interest  in  Annapolis  football  was 
keen.  Another  officer  whose  friendship  I  made 
at  the  Academy  was  Commander  Grant,  who 
later  was  Rear  Admiral,  Commander  of  the  Sub- 
marine Flotilla.  His  spirit  was  truly  remark- 
able. The  way  he  could  talk  to  a  team  was  an 
inspiration. 

It  was  during  the  intermission  of  a  Navy- 
Carlisle  game  when  the  score  was  11  to  6  in  Car- 
lisle's favor,  that  this  exponent  of  fighting  spirit 
came  into  the  dressing-room  and  in  a  talk  to  the 
team  spared  nothing  and  nobody.  What  he  said 
about  the  White  man  not  being  able  to  defeat  the 
Indian  was  typical.  As  a  result  of  this  unique 
dressing-room  scene  when  he  commanded  the 
Navy  to  win  out  over  the  Indians,  his  charges 
came  through  to  victory  by  the  score  of  17-11. 

There  is  no  one  man  at  Annapolis  who  sticks 
closer  to  the  ship  and  around  whom  more  football 
traditions  have  grown  than  Paul  Dashiell,  a  pro- 
fessor in  the  Academy.  He  bore  for  manj^  years 
the  burden  of  responsibility  of  Annapolis  foot- 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  199 

ball.  His  earnest  desire  has  been  to  see  the  Navy 
succeed.  He  has  worked  arduously,  and  when- 
ever Navy  men  get  together  they  speak  enthusi- 
astically of  the  devotion  of  this  former  Lehigh 
hero,  official  and  rule  maker.  Players  have  come 
and  gone;  the  call  in  recent  years  has  been  else- 
where, but  Paul  Dashiell  has  remained,  and  his 
interest  in  the  game  has  been  manifested  by  self- 
denial  and  hard  work.  Defeat  has  come  to  him 
with  great  sadness,  and  there  are  many  games  of 
which  he  still  feels  the  sting;  these  come  to  him  as 
nightmares  in  his  recollections  of  Annapolis  foot- 
ball history.  Great  has  been  his  joy  in  the 
Navy's  hour  of  victory. 

It  was  here  at  Annapolis  that  I  learned  some- 
thing of  the  old  Navy  football  heroes.  Most 
brilHant  of  all,  perhaps,  was  Worth  Bagley,  a 
marvelous  punter  and  great  fighter.  He  lost  his 
life  later  in  the  war  with  Spain,  standing  to  his 
duty  under  open  fire  on  the  deck  of  the  Winslow 
at  Cardenas,  with  the  utter  fearlessness  that  was 
characteristic  of  him. 

I  heard  of  the  deeds  on  the  football  field  of 
Mike  Johnson,  Trench,  Pearson,  ^IcCormack, 
Cavanaugh,  Reeves,  McCauley,  Craven,  Kim- 
ball and  Bookwalter.  I  have  played  against  the 
great  Navy  guard  Halligan.  I  saw  developed 
the  Navy  players,  Long,  Chambers,  Reed,  Nich- 
ols and  Chip  Smith,  who  later  was  in  charge  of 
the  Nav}^  athletics.  He  was  one  of  the  best  quar- 
terbacks the  Navy  ever  had.     I  saw  Dug  How- 


200  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ard  grow  up  from  boyhood  in  Annapolis  and 
develop  into  a  Navy  star;  saw  him  later  coach 
their  teams  to  victory;  witnessed  the  great  play- 
ing of  Dougherty,  Piersol,  Grady  and  Bill  Car- 
penter, who  is  no  longer  on  the  Navy  list.  All 
these  players,  together  with  Norton,  Northcroft, 
Dague,  Halsey,  Ingram,  Douglas,  Jerry  Land, 
Babe  Brown  and  Dalton  stand  out  among  those 
who  have  given  their  best  in  Army  and  Navy 
games. 

Young  Nichols,  who  was  quarterback  in  1912, 
was  a  most  brilliant  ground  gainer.  He  resigned 
from  the  Service  early  in  1913,  receiving  a  com- 
mission in  the  British  Army.  He  was  wounded, 
but  later  returned  to  duty  only  to  be  killed  shortly 
afterward.     Another  splendid  man. 

In  speaking  of  Navy  football  I  cannot  pass 
over  the  name  of  W.  H.  Stayton,  a  man  whose 
whole  soul  seemed  to  be  permeated  with  Navy 
atmosphere,  and  who  is  always  to  be  depended 
upon  in  Navy  matters.  The  association  that  I 
formed  later  in  life  with  McDonough  Craven  and 
other  loyal  Navy  football  men  gave  me  an  oppor- 
tunity to  learn  of  Annapolis  football  in  their  day. 

The  list  of  men  who  have  been  invited  to  coach 
the  Navy  from  year  to  year  is  a  long  one.  The 
ideal  method  of  development  of  an  undergrad- 
uate team  is  by  a  system  of  coaching  conducted 
by  graduates  of  that  institution.  Such  alumni 
can  best  preserve  the  traditions,  correct  blunders 
of  other  years,  and  carry  through  a  continuous 


KORTHCROFT  KICKIX(J  THE  FIELD  GOAL  AxMICIF  ViED 
BY  THE  NAVY  AND  FEARED  BY  THE  ARMY 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  201 

policy  along  lines  most  acceptable.  Graduate 
coaching  exclusively  is  nearly  impossible  for 
Navy  teams,  for  the  graduates,  as  officers,  are 
stationed  at  far  distant  points,  mostly  on  board 
ship.  Their  duties  do  not  permit  of  interrup- 
tion for  two  months.  They  cannot  be  spared 
from  turret  and  bridge;  from  the  team  work  so 
highly  developed  at  present  on  shipboard.  Fur- 
thermore, their  absence  from  our  country  some- 
times for  years,  keeps  them  out  of  touch  with 
football  generally,  and  it  is  impossible  for  them 
to  keep  up  to  date — whence  the  coaching  from 
other  institutions. 

Lieutenant  Frank  B.  Berrien  was  one  of  the 
early  coaches  and  an  able  one.  Immediately 
afterward  Dug  Howard  for  three  years  coached 
the  team  to  victory.  The  Navj^'s  football  future 
was  then  turned  over  to  Jonas  Ingram,  with  the 
idea  of  working  out  a  purely  graduate  system,  in 
the  face  of  such  serious  obstacles  as  have  already 
been  pointed  out. 

One  of  the  nightmares  of  my  coaching  experi- 
ences was  the  day  that  the  Army  beat  the  Navy 
through  the  combined  effort  of  the  whole  Army 
team  plus  the  individual  running  of  Charlie  Daly. 
This  run  occurred  at  the  very  start  of  the  second 
half.  Doc  Hillebrand  and  I  were  talking  on  the 
side  lines  to  Evarts  Wrenn,  the  Umpire.  None 
of  us  heard  the  whistle  blow  for  the  starting  of 
the  second  half.  Before  we  knew  it  the  Army 
sympathizers  were  on  their  feet  cheering  and  we 


202  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

saw  Daly  hitting  it  up  the  field,  weaving  through 
the  Navy  defense. 

Harmon  Graves,  who  was  coaching  West 
Point  that  year,  has  since  told  me  that  the  Army 
coaches  had  drilled  the  team  carefully  in  receiv- 
ing the  ball  on  a  kickoif — with  Daly  clear  back 
under  the  goal  posts.  On  the  kickoff,  the  Navy 
did  just  what  West  Point  had  been  trained  to 
expect.  Belknap  kicked  a  long  high  one  direct 
to  Daly,  and  then  and  there  began  the  carefully 
prepared  advance  of  the  Army  team.  Mowing 
down  the  oncoming  Navy  players,  the  West 
Point  forwards  made  it  possible  for  clever  Daly 
to  get  loose  and  score  a  touchdown  after  a  run  of 
nearly  the  entire  length  of  the  field. 

This  game  stands  out  in  my  recollection  as  one 
of  the  most  sensational  on  record.  The  Navy, 
like  West  Point,  had  had  many  victories,  but  the 
purpose  of  this  book  is  not  to  record  year  by  year 
the  achievements  of  these  two  institutions,  but 
rather  catch  their  spirit,  as  one  from  without 
looks  in  upon  a  small  portion  of  the  busy  life  that 
is  typical  of  these  Service  schools. 

Scattered  over  the  seven  seas  are  those  who 
heard  the  reveille  of  football  at  Annapolis. 
From  a  few  old-timers  let  us  garner  their  experi- 
ences and  the  effects  of  football  in  the  Service. 

C.  L.  Poor,  one  of  the  veterans  of  the  Annap- 
olis squad.  Varsity  and  Hustlers,  has  something 
to  say  concerning  the  effect  of  football  upon  the 
relationship  between  officers  and  men. 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  203 

"Generally  speaking,"  he  says,  "it  is  consid- 
ered that  the  relationship  is  beneficial.  The 
young  officer  assumes  qualities  of  leadership  and 
shows  himself  in  a  favorable  light  to  the  men, 
who  appreciate  his  ability  to  show  them  some- 
thing and  do  it  well.  The  average  young  Ameri- 
can, whether  himself  athletic  or  not,  is  a  bit  of  a 
hero  worshipper  towards  a  prominent  athlete,  and 
so  the  young  officer  who  has  good  football  abil- 
ity gets  the  respect  and  appreciation  of  the  crew 
to  start  with." 

J.  B.  Patton,  who  played  three  years  at  An- 
napolis, says  of  the  early  days : 

"I  entered  the  Academy  in  1895.  In  those 
days  athletics  were  not  encouraged.  The  aver- 
age number  of  cadets  was  less  than  200,  and  the 
entrance  age  was  from  14  to  18 — reall}'^  a  boys' 
school.  So  when  an  occasional  college  team  ap- 
peared, they  looked  like  old  men  to  us. 

"Match  games  were  usually  on  Saturday  after- 
noon, and  all  the  cadets  spent  the  forenoon  at 
sail  drill  on  board  the  Wyoming  in  Chesapeake 
Bay.  I  can  remember  spending  four  hours  rac- 
ing up  and  down  the  top  gallant  yard  with  Stone 
and  Hayward,  loosing  and  furling  sail,  and  then 
returning  to  a  roast  beef  dinner,  followed  by  two 
45-minute  halves  of  football. 

"One  of  our  best  games,  as  a  rule,  was  with 
Johns  Hopkins  University.  Paul  Dashiell,  then 
a  Hopkins  man,  usually  managed  to  smuggle  one 
or  more  Poes  to  Aimapolis  with  his  team.     We 


204  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

knew  it,  but  at  that  time  we  did  not  object  be- 
cause we  usually  beat  the  Hopkins  team. 

"Another  interesting  match  was  with  the  Deaf 
Mutes  from  Kendall  College.  It  was  a  stand- 
ing joke  with  us  that  they  too  frequently  smug- 
gled good  football  players  who  were  not  mutes. 
These  kept  silent  during  the  game  and  talked 
with  their  hands,  but  frequently  when  I  tackled 
one  hard  and  fell  on  him,  I  could  hear  him  cuss 
under  his  breath." 

M.  M.  Taylor  brings  us  down  to  Navy  football 
of  the  early  nineties. 

"In  my  day  the  principal  quality  sought  was 
beef.  Being  embryo  sailors  we  had  to  have 
nautical  terms  for  our  signals,  and  they  made  our 
opponents  sit  up  and  take  notice.  When  I 
played  halfback  I  remember  my  signals  were  my 
order  relating  to  the  foremast.  For  instance, 
'Fore-top-gallant  clew  lines  and  hands-by-the- 
halyards'  meant  that  I  was  the  victim.  On  the 
conclusion  of  the  order,  if  the  captain  could  not 
launch  a  play  made  at  once,  he  had  to  lengthen 
his  signal,  and  sometimes  there  would  be  a  string 
of  jargon,  intelligible  only  to  a  sailor,  which 
would  take  the  light  yard  men  aloft,  furl  the  sail, 
and  probably  cast  reflections  on  the  stowage  of 
the  bunt.  Anything  connected  with  the  anchor 
was  a  kick.  The  mainmast  was  consecrated  to 
the  left  half,  and  the  mizzen  to  the  fullback. 

In  one  game  our  lack  of  proper  uniform 
worked  to  our  advantage.     I  was  on  the  sick  list 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  205 

and  had  turned  my  suit  over  to  a  substitute.  I 
braved  the  doctor's  disapproval  and  went  into  the 
game  in  a  pair  of  long  working  trousers  and  a 
blue  flannel  shirt.  The  opposing  team,  Pennsyl- 
vania, hailed  me  as  'Little  Boy  Blue,'  and  paid 
no  further  attention  to  me,  so  that  by  good  for- 
tune I  made  a  couple  of  scores.  Then  they  fell 
upon  me,  and  at  the  close  all  I  had  left  was  the 
pants." 

J.  W.  Powell,  captain  of  the  '97  team,  tells 
of  the  interim  between  Army-Navy  games. 

"Our  head  coach  was  Johnny  Poe,"  he  says, 
"and  he  and  Paul  Dashiell  took  charge  of  the 
squad.  Some  of  our  good  men  were  Bus  White, 
Bill  Tardy,  Halligan  and  Fisher,  holding  over 
from  the  year  before.  A.  T.  Graham  and  Jerry 
Landis  in  the  line.  A  wild  Irishman  in  the 
plebe  class,  Paddy  Shea,  earned  one  end  position 
in  short  order,  while  A.  H.  JNIcCarthy  went  in  at 
the  other  wing.  Jack  Asserson,  Bobby  Hender- 
son, Louis  Richardson  and  I  made  up  the  back- 
field.  In  '95,  Princeton  had  developed  their  fa- 
mous ends  back  system  which  was  adopted  by 
Johnny  Poe  and  the  game  we  played  that  year 
was  built  around  this  system.  Johnny  was  a 
deadly  tackier  and  nearly  killed  half  the  team 
with  his  system  of  live  tackling  practice.  This 
was  one  of  the  years  in  which  tliere  was  no  Army 
and  Na^'y  game  and  our  big  game  was  the 
Thanksgiving  Day  contest  with  Lafayette. 
Barclay,  Bray  and  Rinehart  made  Lafayette's 


206  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

name  a  terror  in  the  football  world.     The  game 
resulted  in  an  18  to  6  victory  for  Lafayette. 

"My  most  vivid  recollections  of  that  game  are 
McCarthy's  plucky  playing  with  his  hand  in  a 
plaster  cast,  due  to  a  broken  bone,  stopping  Bar- 
clay and  Bray  repeatedly  in  spite  of  this  handi- 
cap, and  my  own  touchdown,  after  a  twelve  yard 
run,  with  Rinehart's  250  pounds  hanging  to  me 
most  of  the  way." 

I  recall  a  trip  that  the  Princeton  team  of 
1898  made  to  West  Point.  It  was  truly  an  at- 
tack upon  the  historical  old  school  in  a  fashion 
de  luxe. 

Alex  Van  Rensselaer,  an  old  Princeton  foot- 
ball captain,  invited  Doc  Hillebrand  to  have  the 
Tiger  eleven  meet  him  that  Saturday  morning 
at  the  Pennsylvania  Ferry  slip  in  Jersey  City. 
En  route  to  West  Point  that  morning  this  old 
Princeton  leader  met  us  with  his  steam  yacht,  The 
May.  Boyhood  enthusiasm  ran  high  as  we 
jumped  aboard.  Good  fellowship  prevailed. 
We  lunched  on  board,  dressed  on  board.  Upon 
our  arrival  at  West  Point  we  were  met  by  the 
Academy  representative  and  were  driven  to  the 
football  field. 

The  snappy  work  of  the  Princeton  team  that 
day  brought  victory,  and  we  attributed  our  suc- 
cess to  the  Van  Rensselaer  transport.  Return- 
ing that  night  on  the  boat.  Doc  Hillebrand  and 
Arthur  Poe  bribed  the  captain  of  The  May  to 
just  miss  connecting  with  the  last  train  to  Prince- 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  207 

ton,  and  as  a  worried  manager  sat  alongside  of 
Van  Rensselaer  wondering  whether  it  were  not 
possible  to  hurry  the  boat  along  a  little  faster, 
Van  Rensselaer  himself  knew  what  was  in  Doc's 
mind  and  so  helped  make  it  possible  for  us  to 
rest  at  the  Murray  Hill  Hotel  over  night,  and 
not  allow  a  railroad  trip  to  Princeton  mar  the 
luxury  of  the  day. 

I  have  a  lot  of  respect  for  the  football  brains 
of  West  Point.  My  lot  has  been  very  happily 
cast  with  the  Navy.  I  have  generally  been  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  field.  I  knew  the 
strength  of  their  team.  I  have  learned  much  of 
the  spirit  of  the  academy  from  their  cheering  at 
Army  and  Navy  games.  Playing  against  West 
Point  our  Princeton  teams  have  always  realized 
the  hard,  difficult  task  which  confronted  them, 
and  victory  was  not  always  the  reward. 

Football  plays  a  valued  part  in  the  athletic  life 
of  West  Point.  From  the  very  fii'st  game  be- 
tween the  Ai-my  and  the  Na^y  on  the  plains 
when  the  Middies  were  victorious,  West  Point 
set  out  in  a  thoroughly  businesslike  way  to  see 
that  the  Navy  did  not  get  the  lion's  share  of  vic- 
tories. 

If  one  studies  the  businesslike  methods  of  the 
Army  Athletic  Association  and  reads  carefully 
the  bulletins  which  are  printed  after  each  game, 
one  is  impressed  by  the  attention  given  to  details. 

I  have  alwaj^s  appreciated  what  King,  '96, 
meant  to  West  Point  football.     Let  me  quote 


208  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

from  the  publication  of  the  Howitzer,  in  1896, 
the  estimated  value  of  this  player  at  that  time : 

"King,  of  course,  stands  first.  Captain  for 
two  years  he  brought  West  Point  from  second 
class  directly  into  first.  As  fullback  he  out- 
played every  fullback  opposed  to  him  and  stands 
in  the  judgment  of  all  observers  second  only  to 
Brooke  of  Pennsylvania.  Let  us  read  what 
King  has  to  say  of  a  period  of  West  Point  foot- 
ball not  widely  known. 

"I  first  played  on  the  '92  team,"  he  says.  "We 
had  two  Navy  games  before  this,  but  they  were 
not  much  as  I  look  back  upon  them.  At  this 
time  we  had  for  practice  that  period  of  Saturday 
afternoon  after  inspection.  That  gave  us  from 
about  3  p.  M.  on.  We  also  had  about  fifteen  min- 
utes between  dinner  and  the  afternoon  recitations, 
and  such  days  as  were  too  rainy  to  drill,  and  from 
5 :45  A.  M.,  to  6 :05  A.  M.  Later  in  the  year  when 
it  grew  too  cold  to  drill,  we  had  the  time  after 
about  4:15  p.  m.,  but  it  became  dark  so  early  that 
we  didn't  get  much  practice.  We  practiced  sig- 
nals even  by  moonlight. 

"Visiting  teams  used  to  watch  us  at  inspection, 
two  o'clock.  We  were  in  tight  full  dress  clothes, 
standing  at  attention  for  thirty  to  forty-five  min- 
utes just  before  the  game.  A  fine  preparation 
for  a  stiff  contest.  We  had  quite  a  character  by 
the  name  of  Stacy,  a  Maine  boy.  He  was  a 
thickset  chap,  husky  and  fast.  He  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  be  stopped.     He  would  fight  it 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  209 

out  to  the  end  for  every  inch.  Early  in  one  of 
the  Yale  games  he  broke  a  rib  and  started  an- 
other, but  the  more  it  hurt,  the  harder  he  played. 
In  a  contest  with  an  athletic  club  in  the  last  non- 
collegiate  game  we  ever  played,  the  opposing 
right  tackle  was  bothering  us.  In  a  scrimmage 
Stacy  twisted  the  gentleman's  nose  very  severely 
and  then  backed  away,  as  the  man  followed  him, 
calling  out  to  the  Umpire.  Stacy  held  his  face 
up  and  took  two  of  the  nicest  punches  in  the  eyes 
that  I  ever  saw.  Of  course,  the  Umpire  saw  it, 
and  promptly  ruled  the  puncher  out,  just  as 
Stacy  had  planned. 

"Just  before  the  Spanish  War  Stacy  became 
ill.  Orders  were  issued  that  regiments  should 
send  officers  to  the  different  cities  for  the  purpose 
of  recruiting.  He  was  at  this  time  not  fit  for 
field  service,  so  was  assigned  to  this  duty.  He 
protested  so  strongly  that  in  some  way  he  was 
able  to  join  his  regiment  in  time  to  go  to  Cuba 
with  his  men.  He  participated  in  all  the  work 
down  there ;  and  when  it  was  over,  even  he  had  to 
give  in.  He  was  sent  to  JNIontauk  Point  in 
very  bad  shape.  He  rallied  for  a  time  and  ob- 
tained sick  leave.  He  went  to  his  old  home  in 
Maine,  where  he  died.  It  was  his  old  football 
grit  that  kept  him  going  in  Cuba  until  the  fight- 
ing was  over. 

"No  mention  of  West  Point's  football  would 
be  complete  without  the  name  of  Dennis  INIichie. 
He  is  usually  referred  to  as  the  Father  of  Foot- 


210  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ball  at  the  Academy.  He  was  captain  of  the 
first  two  teams  we  ever  had.  He  played 
throughout  the  Navy  game  in  '91  with  ten  boils 
on  his  back  and  neck.  He  was  a  backfield  man 
and  one  of  West  Point's  main  line  backers.  He 
was  most  popular  as  a  cadet  and  officer  and  was 
killed  in  action  at  San  Juan,  Cuba. 

"One  of  the  longest  runs  when  both  yards  and 
time  are  considered  ever  pulled  off  on  a  football 
field,  was  made  by  Duncan,  '95,  in  our  Princeton 
game  of  '93.  Duncan  got  the  ball  on  his  5-yard 
line  on  a  fumble,  and  was  well  under  way  before 
he  was  discovered.  Lott,  '96,  later  a  captain  of 
Cavalry,  followed  Duncan  to  interfere  from  be- 
hind. The  only  Princeton  man  who  sensed  trou- 
ble was  Doggy  Trenchard.  He  set  sail  in  pur- 
suit. He  soon  caught  up  with  Lott  and  would 
have  caught  Duncan,  but  for  the  latter's  inter- 
ference. Duncan  finally  scored  the  touchdown, 
having  made  the  105  yards  in  what  would  have 
been  fast  time  for  a  Wefers. 

*'We  at  West  Point  often  speak  of  Balhet's 
being  obliged  to  call  on  Phil  King  to  back  him 
up  that  day,  as  Ames,  one  of  our  greatest  centres, 
was  outplaying  him,  and  of  the  rage  of  Phil  King, 
because  on  every  point,  Nolan,  '96,  tackled  him 
at  once  and  prevented  King  from  making  those 
phenomenal  runs  which  characterized  his  play- 
ing." 

Harmon  Graves  of  Yale  is  a  coach  who  has 
contributed  much  to  West  Point's  football. 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  211 

"Harmon  Graves  is  too  well  known  now  as 
coach  to  need  our  praise,"  says  a  West  Pointer, 
"but  it  is  not  only  as  a  successful  coach,  but  as  a 
personal  friend  that  he  lives  in  the  heart  of  every 
member  of  the  team  and  indeed  the  entire  corps. 
There  will  always  be  a  sunny  spot  at  West  Point 
for  Graves." 

In  a  recent  talk  with  Harmon  Graves  he 
showed  me  a  beautifully  engraved  watch  pre- 
sented to  him  by  the  Cadet  Corps  of  West  Point, 
a  treasure  prized. 

Of  the  privileged  days  spent  at  West  Point 
Graves  writes,  as  follows: 

"Every  civilian  who  has  the  privilege  of  work- 
ing with  the  officers  and  cadets  at  West  Point  to 
accomplish  some  worthy  object  comes  away  a  far 
better  man  than  when  he  went  there.  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  be  asked  by  them  to  help  in 
the  establishment  of  football  at  the  Academy 
and  for  many  years  I  gave  the  best  I  had  and 
still  feel  greatly  their  debtor. 

"At  West  Point  amateur  sport  flourishes  in  its 
perfection,  and  a  very  high  standard  of  accom- 
phshment  has  been  attained  in  football.  There 
are  no  cross-cuts  to  the  kind  of  football  success 
West  Point  has  worked  for:  it  is  all  a  question  of 
merit  based  on  competency,  accuracy  and  fear- 
less execution.  Those  of  us  who  have  had  the 
privilege  of  assisting  in  the  development  of  West 
Point  football  have  learned  much  of  real  value 
from  the  officers  and  cadets  about  the  game  and 


212  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

what  really  counts  in  the  make-up  of  a  successful 
team.  It  is  fair  to  say  that  West  Point  has  con- 
tributed a  great  deal  to  football  generally  and 
has,  in  spite  of  many  necessary  time  restrictions, 
turned  out  some  of  the  best  teams  and  players  in 
the  last  fifteen  years. 

"The  greatest  credit  is  due  to  the  Army  Officers 
Athletic  Association,  which,  through  its  football 
representatives,  started  right  and  then  pursued  a 
sound  pohcy  which  has  placed  football  at  West 
Point  on  a  firm  basis,  becoming  the  standing  and 
dignity  of  the  institution. 

"There  have  been  many  interesting  and  amus- 
ing incidents  in  connection  with  football  at  West 
Point  which  help  to  make  up  the  tradition  of  the 
game  there  and  are  many  times  repeated  at  any 
gathering  of  officers  and  cadets.  I  well  remem- 
ber when  Daly,  the  former  Harvard  Captain, 
modestly  took  his  place  as  a  plebe  candidate  for 
the  team  and  sat  in  the  front  row  on  the  floor  of 
the  gymnasium  when  I  explained  to  the  squad, 
and  illustrated  by  the  use  of  a  blackboard,  what 
he  and  every  one  else  there  knew  was  the  then 
Yale  defense.  There  was,  perhaps,  the  sugges- 
tion of  a  smile  all  around  when  I  began  by  saying 
that  from  then  on  we  were  gathered  there  for 
West  Point  and  to  make  its  team  a  success  that 
season  and  not  for  the  benefit  of  Harvard  or 
Yale.  He  told  me  afterwards  that  he  had  never 
understood  the  defense  as  I  had  explained  it. 
He  mastered  it  and  believed  in  it,  as  he  won  and 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  213 

kept  his  place  on  the  team  and  learned  some 
things  from  West  Point  football, — as  we  all  did.  * 

"The  rivalry  with  the  Navy  is  wholesome  and 
intense,  as  it  should  be.  My  friend,  Paul  Da- 
shiell,  who  fully  shares  that  feeling,  has  much  to 
do  with  the  success  of  the  Navy  team,  and  the 
development  of  football  at  the  Naval  Academy. 
After  a  West  Point  victory  at  Philadelphia,  he 
came  to  the  West  Point  dressing  room  and  of- 
fered his  congratulations.  As  I  took  his  hand,  I 
noted  that  tears  were  in  his  eyes  and  that  his  voice 
shook.  The  next  year  the  NaAy  won  and  I  re- 
turned the  call.  I  was  feeling  rather  grim,  but 
when  I  found  him  surrounded  by  the  happy  Navy 
team,  he  was  crying  again  and  hardly  smiled 
when  I  offered  my  congratulation,  and  told  him 
that  it  really  made  no  difference  which  team  won 
for  he  cried  anyway." 

The  sportsmanship  and  friendly  rivalry  which 
the  Army  and  Navy  game  brings  out  in 
both  branches  of  the  Service  is  admirable  and 
unique  and  reaches  all  officers  on  the  day  of  the 
game  wherever  in  the  world  they  are.  Real  pre- 
paredness is  an  old  axiom  at  West  Point  and  it 
has  been  applied  to  football.  There  I  learned  to 
love  my  country  and  respect  the  manhood  and 
efficiency  of  the  Army  officers  in  a  better  way 
than  I  did  before.  I  recall  the  seasons  I 
have  spent  there  with  gratitude  and  affection, 
both  for  the  friends  I  have  made  and  for  the 
Army  spirit." 


214  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Siding  with  the  Navy  has  enabled  me  to  know 
West  Point's  strength.  Any  mention  of  West 
Point's  football  would  be  incomplete  without  the 
names  of  some  officers  who  have  not  only  safe- 
guarded the  game  at  West  Point,  but  have  been 
the  able  representatives  of  the  Army's  football 
during  their  service  there.  Such  men  are,  Rich- 
mond P.  Davis,  Pahner  E.  Pierce,  and  W.  R. 
Richardson. 

THE  WAY  THEY  HAVE  IN  THE  ARMY 

If  there  is  any  one  man  who  has  permanently 
influenced  football  at  West  Point  that  man  is 
H.  J.  Koehler,  for  years  Master  of  the  Sword  at 
the  Academy.  Under  his  active  coaching  some 
of  the  Army's  finest  players  were  developed.  In 
recent  years  he  has  not  been  a  member  of  the 
coaching  staff,  but  he  none  the  less  never  loses 
touch  with  the  team  and  his  advice  concerning 
men  and  methods  is  always  eagerly  sought.  By 
virtue  of  long  experience  at  the  Academy  and 
because  of  an  aptitude  for  analysis  of  the  game 
itself  he  has  been  invaluable  in  harmonizing  prac- 
tice and  play  with  peculiar  local  conditions. 

Any  time  the  stranger  seeks  to  delve  either 
into  the  history  or  the  constructive  coaching  of 
the  game  at  the  Academy,  the  younger  men,  as 
well  as  the  older,  will  always  answer  your  ques- 
tions by  saying  "Go  ask  Koehler."  Always  a 
hard  worker  and  serious  thinker,  he  is  apt  to  give 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  215 

an  almost  nightly  demonstration  during  the  sea- 
son of  the  foundation  principles  of  the  game. 

Not  only  West  Pointers,  but  also  Yale  and 
Princeton  men,  who  had  to  face  the  elevens  under 
Koehler's  coaching  will  remember  Romeyn,  who, 
had  he  been  kicking  in  the  days  of  Felton,  Mahan 
and  the  other  long  distance  artillerists,  might  well 
have  held  his  own,  in  the  opinion  of  Army  men. 
Nesbitt,  Waldron  and  Scales  were  among  the 
other  really  brilliant  players  whom  Koehler  de- 
veloped.    He  was  in  charge  of  some  of  the  teams 
that  played  the  hardest  schedules  in  the  history 
of  West  Point  football.     One  year  the  cadets  met 
Harvard,  Yale,  Princeton,  Columbia,  Syracuse 
and  Penn  State.     Surely  this  was  a  season's  work 
calculated  to  develop  remarkable  men,  or  break 
them   in   the  making.     Bettison,   center.   King 
Boyers  at  guard,  and  Bunker  at  tackle  and  half, 
were  among  the  splendid  players  who  survived 
this  trial  by  fire.     Casad,   Clark  and  PhiUips 
made  up  a  backfield  that  would  have  been  a  credit 
to  any  of  the  colleges. 

Soon,  however,  the  Army  strength  was  greatly 
to  be  augmented  by  the  acquisition  of  Charles 
Dudley  Daly,  fresh  from  four  years  of  football 
at  Harvard.  Reputations  made  elsewhere  do  not 
count  for  much  at  West  Point.  The  coaches 
were  glad  to  have  Plebe  Dalj^  come  out  for 
the  squad,  but  they  knew  and  he  knew  quite  as 
well  as  they,  that  there  are  no  short  cuts  to  the 


216  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

big  "A."  Now  began  a  remarkable  demonstra- 
tion of  football  genius.  Not  only  did  the  former 
Harvard  Captain  make  the  team,  but  his  aid  in 
coaching  was  also  eagerly  sought.  An  unusual 
move  this,  but  a  tribute  to  the  new  man. 

Daly  was  modesty  itself  in  those  days  as  he 
has  been  ever  since,  even  when  equipped  with  the 
yellow  jacket  and  peacock  feather  of  the  head 
coach.  As  player  and  as  coach  and  often  as  the 
two  combined,  Daly's  connection  with  West 
Point  football  covered  eight  years,  in  the  course 
of  which  he  never  played  on  or  coached  a  losing 
team.  His  record  against  the  Navy  alone  is 
seven  victories  and  one  tie,  146  points  to  33.  His 
final  year's  coaching  was  done  in  1915.  From 
West  Point  he  was  sent  to  Hawaii,  whence  he 
writes  me,  as  follows: 

"There  are  certain  episodes  in  the  game  that 
have  always  been  of  particular  interest  to  me, 
such  as  Ely's  game  playing  with  broken  ribs  in 
the  Harvard- Yale  game  of  1898;  Charlie  de 
Saulles'  great  playing  with  a  sprained  ankle  in 
the  Yale-Princeton  game  of  the  same  year;  the 
tackling  of  Bunker  by  Long  of  the  Navy  in  the 
Army-Navy  game  of  1902 — the  hardest  tackle  I 
have  ever  seen ;  and  the  daring  quarterback  work 
of  Johnny  Cutler  in  the  Harvard-Dartmouth 
1908  game,  when  he  snatched  victory  from  de- 
feat in  the  last  few  minutes  of  play." 

Undoubtedly  Daly's  deep  study  of  strategy 
and  tactics  as  used  in  warfare  had  a  great  deal 


AR]MY  AND  NAVY  217 

to  do  with  his  continued  ascendency  as  a  coach. 
Writing  to  Herbert  Reed,  one  of  the  pencil  and 
paper  football  men,  with  whom  he  had  had  many 
a  long  argument  over  the  generalship  of  the 
game,  he  said  in  part: 

"Football  within  the  limitations  of  the  rules 
and  sportsmanship  is  a  war  game.  Either  by 
force  or  by  deception  it  advances  through  the  op- 
position to  the  goal  line,  which  might  be  consid- 
ered the  capital  of  the  enemy." 

It  was  in  Daly's  first  year  that  a  huge  South- 
erner, with  a  pleasant  drawl,  turned  up  in  the 
plebe  class.  It  was  a  foregone  conclusion  almost 
on  sight  that  Ernest,  better  known  to  football 
men  throughout  the  country  as  Pot  Graves, 
would  make  the  Eleven.  He  not  only  played  the 
game  almost  flawlessly  from  the  start,  but  he 
made  so  thorough  a  study  of  line  play  in  general 
that  his  system,  even  down  to  the  most  intimate 
details  of  face  to  face  coaching  filed  away  for  all 
time  in  that  secret  library  of  football  methods  at 
West  Point,  has  come  to  be  known  as  Graves' 
Bible. 

Daly,  still  with  that  ineradicable  love  for  his 
own  Alma  Mater,  lent  a  page  or  two  from  this 
tome  to  Harvard,  and  even  the  author  appeared 
in  person  on  Soldiers'  Field.  The  manner  in 
which  Graves  made  personal  demonstration  of 
his  teachings  will  not  soon  be  forgotten  by  the 
Harvard  men  who  had  to  face  Pot  Graves. 

Graves  has  always  believed  in  the  force  men- 


218  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

tioned  in  Daly's  few  lines  quoted  above  on  the 
subject  of  military  methods  as  applied  to  foot- 
ball. While  always  declaring  that  the  gridiron 
was  no  place  for  a  fist  fight,  he  always  maintained 
that  stalwarts  should  be  allowed  to  fight  it  out 
with  as  little  interference  by  rule  as  possible.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  Graves  was  badly  injured  in  a 
game  with  Yale,  and  for  a  long  time  afterwards 
hobbled  around  with  a  troublesome  knee.  He 
knew  the  man  who  did  it,  but  would  never  tell 
his  name,  and  he  contents  himself  with  saying  "I 
have  no  ill  will — he  got  me  first.  If  he  hadn't 
I  would  have  got  him." 

A  story  is  told  of  Graves'  impatience  with  the 
members  of  a  little  luncheon  party,  who  in  the 
course  of  an  argument  on  the  new  football,  were 
getting  away  from  the  fundamentals.  Rising 
and  stepping  over  to  the  window  of  the  Officers' 
Club,  he  said,  with  a  sleepy  smile:  "Come  here 
a  minute,  you  fellows,"  and,  pointing  down  to 
the  roadway,  added,  "there's  my  team."  Look- 
ing out  of  the  window  the  other  members  of  the 
party  saw  a  huge  steam  roller  snorting  and  puff- 
ing up  the  hill. 

Among  the  men  who  played  football  with 
Graves  and  were  indeed  of  his  type,  were  Doe 
and  Bunker.  Like  Graves,  Bunker  in  spite  of 
his  great  weight,  was  fast  enough  to  play  in  the 
backfield  in  those  years  when  Army  elevens  were 
relying  so  much  upon  terrific   power.     Those 


ARJMY  AND  NAVY  219 

were  the  days  when  substitutes  had  very  little 
opportunity.  In  the  final  Na\y  game  of  1902 
the  same  eleven  men  played  for  the  Army  from 
start  to  finish. 

In  this  period  of  Army  football  other  firstclass 
men  were  developed,  notably  Torney,  a  remark- 
able back,  Thompson,  a  guard,  and  Tom  Ham- 
mond, who  was  later  to  make  a  reputation  as  an 
end  coach.  Bunker  was  still  with  this  aggrega- 
tion, an  eleven  that  marched  fifty  yards  for  a 
touchdo^vn  in  fifteen  plays  against  the  midship- 
men. The  Army  was  among  the  early  Eastern 
teams  to  test  Eastern  football  methods  against 
those  of  the  West,  the  Cadets  defeating  a  team 
from  the  University  of  Chicago  on  the  plains. 

The  West  Pointers  had  only  one  criticism  to 
make  of  their  visitors,  and  it  was  laconically  put 
by  one  of  the  backs,  who  said: 

"They're  all-fired  fast,  but  it's  funny  how  they 
stop  when  you  tackle  them." 

In  this  lineup  was  A.  C.  Tipton,  at  center,  to 
whom  belongs  the  honor  of  forcing  the  Rules 
Committee  to  change  the  code  in  one  particular 
in  order  to  stop  a  maneuver  which  he  invented 
while  in  midcareer  in  a  big  game.  No  one  will 
ever  forget  how,  when  chasing  a  loose  ball  and 
realizing  that  he  had  no  chance  to  pick  it  up,  he 
kicked  it  again  and  again  until  it  crossed  the 
final  chalk  mark  where  he  fell  on  it  for  a  touch- 
down.    Tipton  was  something  of  a  wrestler  too, 


220  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

as  a  certain  Japanese  expert  in  the  art  of  Jiu- 
jitsu  can  testify  and  indeed  did  testify  on  the  spot 
after  the  doctors  had  hrought  him  too. 

There  was  no  lowering  of  the  standards  in  the 
succeeding  years,  which  saw  the  development  of 
players  like  Ilackett,  Prince,  Farnswoi-th  and 
Davis.  Those  years  too  saw  the  rise  of  such 
wonderful  forwards  as  W.  W.  (Red)  Erwin 
and  that  huge  man  from  Alaska,  D.  D.  Pullen. 

Coming  now  to  more  recent  times,  the  coach- 
ing was  turned  over  to  H.  ^I.  Nelly,  assisted  by 
Joseph  W.  Beacham,  fresh  from  chasing  the  lit- 
tle brown  brother  in  the  Philippines.  Beacham 
had  made  a  great  reputation  at  Cornell,  and  there 
was  evidence  that  he  had  kept  up  with  the  game 
at  least  in  the  matter  of  strategic  possibilities, 
even  while  in  the  tangled  jungle  of  Luzon.  He 
brought  with  him  even  more  than  that — an  un- 
canny ability  to  see  through  the  machinery  of  the 
team  and  pick  out  its  human  qualities,  upon 
which  he  never  neglected  to  play.  There  have 
been  few  coaches  closer  to  his  men  than  Joe. 

Whenever  I  talk  football  with  Joe  Beacham 
he  never  forgets  to  mention  Vaughn  Cooper,  to 
whom  he  gives  a  large  share  of  the  credit  for  the 
good  work  of  his  elevens.  Cooper  was  of  the 
quiet  type,  whose  specialty  was  defense.  These 
two  made  a  great  team. 

It  was  in  this  period  that  West  Point  saw  the 
development  of  one  of  its  greatest  field  generals. 
There  was  nothing  impressive  in  the  physical  ap- 


ARMY  AND  XAVY  221 

pearance  of  little  H.  L.  Hyatt.  A  reasonably 
good  man,  ball  in  hand,  his  greatest  value  lay  in 
his  head  work.  As  the  AVest  Point  trainer  said 
one  day:  "I've  got  him  all  bandaged  up  like  a 
leg  in  a  puttee,  but  from  the  neck  up  he's  a  piece 
of  ice."  The  charts  of  games  in  which  Hyatt 
ran  the  team  are  set  before  the  squad  each  year 
as  examples,  not  merely  of  perfect  generalship, 
but  of  the  proper  time  to  violate  that  generalship 
and  make  it  go,  a  distinction  shared  by  Prichard, 
who  followed  in  his  footsteps  with  added  touches 
of  his  own. 

One  cannot  mention  Prichard's  name  ^vithout 
thinking  at  once  of  ^Nlerillat,  who,  with  Prichard, 
formed  one  of  the  finest  forward  passing  combi- 
nations the  game  has  seen.  Both  at  Franklin 
Field  and  at  the  Polo  Grounds  this  pair  brought 
woe  to  the  Xavy. 

These  stars  had  able  assistance  in  the  persons 
of  jMcEwan,  one  of  the  greatest  centers  the  game 
has  seen  and  who  was  chosen  to  lead  the  team  in 
1916,  Weyand,  Xeyland  and  O'Hare,  among  the 
forwards,  and  the  brilliant  and  sturdy  Oliphant 
in  the  backfield,  the  man  whose  slashing  play 
against  the  Navy  in  1015  will  never  be  forgotten. 
Oliphant  was  of  a  most  unusual  type.  Even 
when  he  was  doing  the  heaviest  damage  to  the 
Navy  Corps  the  midshipmen  could  not  but  ad- 
mire his  wonderful  work. 

What  the  Hustlers  are  to  xVnnapolis  the  Cul- 
lom  Hall  team  is  to  West  Point.     It  is  made  up 


222  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

of  the  leftovers  from  the  first  squad  and  substi- 
tutes. One  would  travel  far  afield  in  search  of 
a  team  with  more  spirit  and  greater  pep  in  action, 
whether  playing  in  outside  games,  or  as  their 
coach  would  put  it,  "showing  up"  the  first  Eleven. 
Not  infrequently  a  player  of  the  highest  caliber 
is  developed  in  this  squad  and  taken  to  the  first 
eleven. 

The  Cullom  Hall  squad,  whose  eleven  gener- 
ally manages  to  clean  up  some  of  the  strongest 
school  teams  of  the  Hudson  Valley,  draws  not 
a  little  of  its  spirit,  I  think,  from  the  late  Lieu- 
tenant E.  M.  Zell,  better  known  at  the  Academy 
as  "Jobey."  It  was  a  treat  to  see  the  Cullom 
Hall  team  marching  down  the  field  against  the 
first  Eleven  with  the  roly-poly  figure  of  Jobey 
in  the  thick  of  every  scrimmage,  coaching  at  the 
top  of  his  lungs,  even  when  bowled  over  by  the 
interference  of  his  own  pupils.  Since  his  time 
the  squad  has  been  turned  over  to  Lieutenants 
Sellack  and  Crawford,  who  have  kept  alive  the 
traditions  and  the  playing  spirit  of  this  unique 
organization. 

Their  reward  for  the  bruising,  hard  work,  with 
hardly  a  shadow  of  the  hope  of  getting  their  let- 
ter, comes  in  seeing  the  great  game  itself.  Like 
the  college  scrub  teams  the  hardest  rooters  for 
the  Varsity  are  to  be  found  in  their  ranks. 

Now  for  the  game  itself.  Always  hard  fought, 
always  well  fought,  there  is  perhaps  no  clash  of 
all  the  year  that  so  wakes  the  interest  of  the  gen- 


ARINIY  AND  NAVY  223 

eral  public,  that  vast  throng  which,  without  col- 
lege affiliations,  is  nevertheless  hungry  for  the 
right  of  allegiance  somewhere,  somehow. 

While  the  Service  Elevens  are  superbly  sup- 
ported by  the  men  who  have  been  through  the 
exacting  mill  at  West  Point  and  Annapolis — 
theu'  sweethearts  and  wives,  not  to  mention  sis- 
ters, cousins,  uncles  and  aunts — they  are  urged 
on  to  battle  by  that  great  impartial  public  which 
beheves  that  in  a  sense  these  two  teams  belong 
to  it.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  find  men  who  have 
had  no  connection  with  either  academy  in  hot 
argument  as  to  the  relative  merits  of  the  teams. 

Once  in  the  stands  some  apparently  trifling 
thing  begets  a  partisanship  that  this  class  of  spec- 
tator is  wont  to  wonder  at  after  it  is  all  over. 

Whether  in  Philadelphia  in  the  earlier  history 
of  these  contests  on  neutral  ground,  or  in  New 
York,  Army  and  Navy  Day  has  become  by  tacit 
consent  the  nearest  thing  to  a  real  gridiron  hoh- 
day.  For  the  civilian  who  has  been  starved  for 
thrilling  action  and  the  chance  to  cheer  through 
the  autumn  days,  the  jam  at  the  hotels  used  as 
headquarters  by  the  followers  of  the  two  elevens 
satisfies  a  yearning  that  he  has  hitherto  been  un- 
able to  define.  There  too,  is  found  a  host  of  old- 
time  college  football  men  and  coaches  who  hold 
reunion  and  sometimes  even  bury  hatchets. 
Making  his  way  through  the  crowds  and  jogging 
elbows  with  the  heroes  of  a  sport  that  he  under- 
stands only  as   organized  combat  he  becomes 


224  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

obsessed  with  the  spirit  of  the  two  fighting  insti- 
tutions. 

Once  in  possession  of  the  coveted  ticket  he  hies 
himself  to  the  field  as  early  as  possible,  if  he  is 
wise,  in  order  to  enjoy  the  preliminaries  which 
are  unlike  those  at  any  other  game.  Soon  his 
heart  beats  faster,  attuned  to  the  sound  of  tramp- 
ing feet  without  the  gates.  The  measured  ca- 
dence swells,  draws  nearer,  and  the  thousands  rise 
as  one,  when  first  the  long  gray  column  and  then 
the  solid  ranks  of  blue  swing  out  upon  the  field. 
The  precision  of  the  thing,  the  realization  that 
order  and  system  can  go  so  far  as  to  hold  in  check 
to  the  last  moment  the  enthusiasms  of  these 
youngsters  thrills  him  to  the  core.  Then  sud- 
denly gray  ranks  and  blue  alike  break  for  the 
stands,  there  to  cut  loose  such  a  volume  of  now 
orderly,  now  merely  frenzied  noise  as  never  be- 
fore smote  his  ears. 

It  is  inspiration  and  it  is  novelty.  The  time, 
the  place  and  the  men  that  wake  the  loyalty  dor- 
mant in  every  man  which,  sad  to  say,  so  seldom 
has  a  chance  of  expression. 

Around  the  field  are  ranged  diplomat,  digni- 
tary of  whatsoever  rank,  both  native  and  foreign. 
In  common  with  those  who  came  to  see,  as  well 
as  to  be  seen — and  who  does  not  boast  of  having 
been  to  the  Ai-my-Navy  game — they  rise  uncov- 
ered as  the  only  official  non-partisan  of  football 
history  enters  the  gates — the  President  of  the 
United   States.     Throughout  one  half  of  the 


o 

'A 

h- ( 

H 
;^ 

CO 

K 
S 


ARMY  AND  NAVY  225 

game  he  lends  his  support  to  one  Academy  and 
in  the  intermission  makes  trimnphal  progress 
across  the  field,  welcomed  on  his  arrival  by  a  din 
of  shouting  surpassing  all  previous  effort,  there 
to  support  their  side. 

It  is  perhaps  one  of  those  blessed  hours  in  the 
life  of  a  man  upon  whom  the  white  light  so  piti- 
lessly beats,  when  he  can  indulge  in  the  popular 
sport,  to  him  so  long  denied,  of  being  merely 
human. 

Men,  methods,  moods  pass  on.  The  years  roll 
by,  taking  toll  of  every  one  of  us  from  highest 
to  lowest.  Yet,  whether  we  are  absorbed  in  the 
game  of  games,  or  whether  we  look  upon  it  as 
so  many  needs  must  merely  as  a  spectacle,  the 
Army-Navy  game  will  remain  a  milestone  never 
to  be  uprooted.  I  have  spoken  elsewhere  and  at 
length  of  football  traditions.  The  Army-Navy 
game  is  not  merely  a  football  tradition  but  an 
American  institution.  It  is  for  all  the  people 
every  time. 

May  this  great  game  go  on  forever,  serene  in 
its  power  to  bring  out  the  best  that  is  in  us,  and 
when  the  Great  Bugler  sounds  the  silver-sweet 
call  of  taps  for  all  too  many,  there  will  still  be 
those  who  in  their  turn  will  answer  the  call  of 
reveille  to  carry  on  the  traditions  of  the  great 
day  that  was  ours. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GA]ME 

IT  is  as  true  in  football,  as  it  is  in  life,  that  we 
have  no  use  for  a  quitter.  The  man  who 
shirks  in  time  of  need — indeed  there  is  no 
part  in  this  chapter  or  in  this  book  for  such  a 
man.  Football  was  never  made  for  him.  He 
is  soon  discovered  and  relegated  to  the  side  line. 
He  is  hounded  throughout  his  college  career,  and 
afterwards  he  is  known  as  a  man  who  was  yellow. 
As  Garry  Cochran  used  to  saj^: 

"If  I  find  any  man  on  my  football  squad  show- 
ing a  white  feather,  I'll  have  him  hounded  out  of 
college." 

Football  is  a  game  for  the  man  who  has  nerve, 
and  when  put  to  the  test,  under  severe  handicap, 
proves  his  sterling  worth. 

A  man  has  to  be  game  in  spirit.  A  man  has 
to  give  every  inch  there  is  in  him.  Optimism 
should  surround  him.  There  is  much  to  be 
gained  by  hearty  co-operation  of  spirit.  There 
is  much  in  the  thought  that  you  believe  your  team 
is  going  to  win;  that  the  opjiosing  team  cannot 
beat  you ;  that  if  your  opponent  wins,  it  is  going 
to  be  over  your  dead  body.  This  sort  of  spirit  is 
contagious,  and  generally  passes  from  one  to 
the  other,  until  you  have  a  wonderful  team  spirit, 

226 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAIME     227 

and  eleven  men  are  found  fighting  like  demons 
for  victory.  Such  a  spirit  generally  means  a  vic- 
tory, and  so  gets  its  reward.  There  must  be  no 
dissenting  spirit.  If  there  is  such  a  spirit  dis- 
cernible, it  should  be  weeded  out  immediately. 

Some  years  ago  the  Princeton  plaj^ers  were  go- 
ing to  the  field  house  to  dress  for  the  Harvard 
game.  The  captain  and  two  of  the  players  were 
walking  ahead  of  the  rest  of  the  members  of  the 
team.  The  game  was  under  discussion,  when  the 
captain  overheard  one  of  the  players  behmd  him 
remark : 

'T  believe  Harvard  will  win  to-day." 

Shocked  by  this  remark,  the  captain,  who  was 
one  of  those  thoroughbreds  who  never  saw  any- 
thing but  victory  ahead,  full  of  hope  and  confi- 
dence in  his  team,  turned  and  discovered  that  the 
remark  came  from  one  of  his  regular  players. 
Addressing  him,  he  said: 

"Well!  If  you  feel  that  way  about  it,  you 
need  not  even  put  on  your  suit.  I  have  a  substi- 
tute, who  is  game  to  the  core.  He  will  take  your 
place." 

It  is  true  that  teams  have  been  ruined  where 
the  men  lack  the  great  quality  of  optimism  in 
football.  When  a  man  gets  in  a  tight  place, 
when  the  odds  are  all  against  him,  there  comes  to 
him  an  amazing  superhuman  strength,  which  en- 
ables him  to  work  out  wonders.  At  such  a  time 
men  have  been  Imown  to  do  what  seemed  almost 
impossible. 


228  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

I  recall  being  out  in  the  country  in  my  younger 
days  and  seeing  a  man,  who  had  become  irra- 
tional, near  the  roadside,  where  some  heavy  logs 
were  piled.  This  man,  who  ordinarily  was  only 
a  man  of  medium  strength,  was  picking  up  one 
end  of  a  log  and  tossing  it  around — a  log,  which, 
ordinarily,  would  have  taken  three  men  to  lift. 
In  the  bewildering  and  exciting  problems  of  foot- 
ball, there  are  instances  similar  to  this,  where  a 
small  man  on  one  team,  lined  up  against  a  giant 
in  the  opposing  rush  line,  and  game  though  handi- 
capped in  weight  there  comes  to  him  at  such  a 
time  a  certain  added  strength,  by  which  he  was 
able  to  handle  successfully  the  duty  which  pre- 
sented itself  to  him. 

I  have  found  it  to  be  the  rule  rather  than  the 
exception,  that  the  big  man  in  football  did  not 
give  me  the  most  trouble;  it  was  the  man  much 
smaller  than  myself.  Other  big  linemen  have 
found  it  to  be  true.  Many  a  small  man  has  made 
a  big  man  look  ridiculous. 

Bill  Caldwell,  who  used  to  weigh  over  200 
pounds  when  he  played  guard  on  the  Cornell 
team  some  years  ago,  has  this  to  say: 

"I  want  to  pay  a  tribute  to  a  young  man  who 
gave  me  my  worst  seventy  minutes  on  the  foot- 
ball field.  His  name  was  Payne.  He  played 
left  guard  for  Lehigh.  He  weighed  about  145 
pounds ;  was  of  slight  build  and  seemed  to  have  a 
sort  of  sickly  pallor.  I  have  never  seen  him  since, 
but  I  take  this  occasion  to  say  this  was  the  great- 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     229 

est  little  guard  I  ever  met.  At  least  he  was  great 
that  day.  Payne  had  been  playing  back  of  the 
hne  during  part  of  the  season,  but  was  put  in  at 
guard  against  me.  I  had  a  hunch  that  he  was 
going  to  bite  me  in  the  ankle,  when  he  lined  up  the 
first  time,  for  he  bristled  up  and  tore  into  me  like 
a  wild  cat.  I  have  met  a  goodish  few  guards  in 
my  day,  and  was  accustomed  to  almost  any  form 
of  warfare,  but  this  Payne  went  around  me,  like 
a  cooper  around  a  barrel,  and  broke  through  the 
line  and  downed  the  runners  in  their  tracks.  On 
plunges  straight  at  him,  he  went  to  the  mat  and 
grabbed  every  leg  in  sight  and  hung  on  for  dear 
life.  He  darted  through  between  my  legs ;  would 
vault  over  me;  what  he  did  to  me  was  a  shame. 
He  was  not  rough,  but  was  just  the  opposite. 
I  never  laid  a  hand  on  him  all  the  afternoon. 
He  would  make  a  world  beater  in  the  game  as  it 
is  played  to-day." 

Whenever  Brown  University  men  get  together 
and  speak  of  their  wonderful  quarterbacks,  the 
names  of  Sprackling  and  Crowther  are  always 
mentioned.  Both  of  these  men  were  all- Ameri- 
can quarter-backs.  Crowther  filled  the  position 
after  Sprackling  graduated.  He  weighed  only 
134  pounds,  but  he  gave  everything  he  had  in 
him — game,  though  handicapped  in  weight.  In 
the  Harvard  game  of  that  year,  about  the  mid- 
dle of  the  second  half,  Haughton  sent  word  over 
to  Robinson,  the  Brown  coach,  that  he  ought  to 
take  the  little  fellow  out;  that  he  was  too  small 


230  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

to  play  football,  and  was  in  danger  of  being  se- 
riously injured.  Crowther,  however,  was  like  an 
India-rubber  ball  and  not  once  during  the  sea- 
son had  he  received  any  sort  of  injury.  Robby 
told  Crowther  what  Haughton  had  suggested, 
and  smiling,  the  latter  said: 

*'Tell  him  not  to  worry  about  me;  better  look 
out  for  himself." 

On  the  next  play  Crowther  took  the  ball  and 
went  around  Harvard's  end  for  forty  yards,  scor- 
ing a  touchdown.  After  he  had  kicked  the  goal, 
the  little  fellow  came  over  to  the  side  line,  and 
said  to  Robby: 

"Send  word  over  to  Haughton  and  ask  liim 
how  he  likes  that.  Ask  him  if  he  thinks  I'm  all 
in?    Perhaps  he  would  like  to  have  me  quit  now." 

In  the  Yale  game  that  year  Crowther  was 
tackled  by  Pendleton,  one  of  the  big  Yale  guards. 
It  so  happened  that  Pendleton  was  injured  sev- 
eral times  when  he  tackled  Crowther  and  time 
had  to  be  taken  out.  Finally  the  big  fellow  was 
obliged  to  quit,  and  as  he  was  led  off  the  field, 
Crowther  hurried  over  to  him,  reaching  up, 
placed  his  hands  on  his  shoulder  and  said: 

"Sorry,  old  man!  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you." 
Pendleton,  who  weighed  well  over  200  pounds, 
looked  down  upon  the  httle  fellow,  but  said  never 
a  word. 

It  is  most  unpleasant  to  play  in  a  game  where 
a  man  is  injured.  Yet  still  more  distressing 
when  you  realize  that  you  yourself  injured  an- 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     231 

other  player,  especially  one  of  your  own  team 
mates. 

In  the  Brown  game  of  1898,  at  Providence, 
Bosey  Reiter,  Princeton's  star  half-back,  made 
a  flying  tackle  of  a  Brown  runner.  The  latter 
was  struggling  hard,  trying  his  best  to  get  away 
from  Reiter.  At  this  moment  I  was  coming 
along  and  threw  myself  upon  the  Brown  man  to 
prevent  his  advancing  further.  In  the  mixup 
my  weight  stmck  Bosey  and  fractured  his  collar- 
bone. It  was  a  severe  loss  to  the  team,  and  only 
one  who  has  had  a  similar  experience  can  appre- 
ciate my  feelings,  as  well  as  the  team's,  on  the 
journey  back  to  Princeton. 

We  were  to  play  Yale  the  following  Saturday 
at  Princeton.  I  knew  Reiter 's  injury  was  so 
serious  that  he  could  not  possibly  play  in  that 
game. 

The  following  Saturday,  as  that  great  football 
warrior  lay  in  his  bed  at  the  infirmary,  the  whis- 
tle blew  for  the  start  of  the  Yale  game.  We  all 
realized  Reiter  was  not  there :  not  even  on  the  side 
lines,  and  Arthur  Poe  said,  at  the  start  of  the 
game : 

"Play  for  Bosey  Reiter.  He  can't  play  for 
himself  to-day." 

This  spurred  us  on  to  better  team  work  and  to 
victory.  The  attendants  at  the  hospital  told  us 
later  that  thej''  never  had  liad  such  a  lively  pa- 
tient. He  kept  things  stirring  from  start  to 
finish  of  the  gridiron  battle.     As  the  reports  of 


232  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  game  were  brought  to  him,  he  joined  in  the 
thrill  of  the  play. 

"My  injury  proved  a  blessing,"  says  Reiter, 
"as  it  gave  me  an  extra  year,  for  in  those  days  a 
year  did  not  count  in  football,  unless  you  played 
against  Yale,  and  when  I  made  the  touchdown 
against  Yale  the  following  season,  it  was  a  happy 
moment  for  me." 

All  is  not  clear  sailing  in  football.  The  breaks 
must  come  some  time.  They  may  come  singly 
or  in  a  bunch,  but  whenever  they  do  come,  it  takes 
courage  to  buck  the  hard  luck  in  the  game.  Just 
when  things  get  nicely  under  way  one  of  the  star 
players  is  injured,  which  means  the  systematic 
team  work  is  handicapped.  It  is  not  the  team, 
as  a  whole  that  I  am  thinking  of,  but  the  pangs 
of  sorrow  which  go  down  deep  into  a  fellow's 
soul,  when  he  finds  that  he  is  injured;  that  he  is 
in  the  hands  of  the  doctor.  It  is  then  he  real- 
izes that  he  is  only  a  spoke  in  the  big  wheel ;  that 
the  spirit  of  the  game  puts  another  man  in  his 
place.  The  game  goes  on.  Nature  is  left  to  do 
her  best  for  him. 

Let  us  for  a  while  consider  the  player  who  does 
not  realize,  until  after  the  game  is  over,  that  he  is 
hurt.  It  is  after  the  contest,  when  the  excite- 
ment has  ceased,  when  reaction  sets  in,  that  a 
doctor  and  trainer  can  take  stock  of  the  number 
and  extent  of  casualties. 

When  such  injured  men  are  discovered,  at  a 
time  like  that,  we  wonder  how  they  ever  played 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAINIE     233 

the  game  out.  In  fact  the  man  never  knew  he 
was  injm-ed  until  the  game  was  over.  No  more 
loyal  supporter  of  football  follows  the  big  games 
than  Reggi  Went  worth,  Williams,  '91. 

He  is  most  loyal  to  BiU  Hotchkiss,  Williams 
'91. 

"At  Williamstown,  one  year,"  Wentworth 
says,  "Hotchkiss,  who  was  a  wonderful  all  round 
guard,  probably  as  great  a  football  player  as 
ever  hved  (at  least  I  think  so)  played  with  the 
[Williams  team  on  a  field  covered  with  mud  and 
snow  three  inches  deep.  The  game  was  an  un- 
usually severe  one,  and  Hotchkiss  did  yeoman's 
work  that  day. 

"As  we  ran  off  the  field,  after  the  game,  I  hap- 
pened to  stop,  turned,  and  discovered  Hotchkiss 
standing  on  the  side  of  the  field,  with  his  feet 
planted  well  apart,  like  an  old  bull  at  bay.  I 
went  back  where  he  was  and  said : 

"  *Come  on,  Bill,  what's  the  matter?' 

"  'I  don't  know,'  said  he.  'There's  something 
the  matter  with  my  ankles.  I  don't  think  I  can 
walk.' 

"He  took  one  step  and  collapsed.  I  got  a  boy's 
sled,  which  was  on  the  field,  laid  Hotchkiss  on 
-it  and  took  him  to  his  room,  only  to  find  that  both 
ankles  were  sprained.  He  did  not  leave  his 
room  for  two  weeks  and  walked  with  crutches 
for  two  weeks  more.  It  seemed  almost  unbe- 
lievable that  a  man  handicapped  as  he  was  could 
play    the    game    through.     Splints    and    ankle 


234  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

braces  were  unknown  in  those  days.  He  went 
on  the  field  with  two  perfectly  good  ankles. 
How  did  he  do  it?" 

Charles  H.  Huggins,  of  Brown  University, 
better  known  perhaps,  simply  as  "Huggins  of 
Brown,"  recalls  a  curious  case  in  a  game  on  An- 
drews Field: 

"Stewart  Jarvis,  one  of  the  Brown  ends,  made 
a  flying  tackle.  As  he  did  so,  he  felt  some- 
thing snap  in  one  of  his  legs.  We  carried  him 
off  to  the  field  house,  making  a  hasty  investiga- 
tion. We  found  nothing  more  apparent  than  a 
bruise.  I  bundled  him  off  to  college  in  a  cab; 
gave  him  a  pair  of  crutches;  told  him  not  to  go 
out  until  our  doctor  could  examine  the  injury  at 
six  o'clock  that  evening.  When  the  doctor  ar- 
rived at  his  room,  Jarvis  was  not  there.  He  had 
gone  to  the  training  table  for  dinner.  The  doc- 
tor hurried  to  the  Union  dining-room,  only  to 
find  that  Jarvis  had  discarded  the  crutches  and 
with  some  of  the  boys  had  gone  out  to  Rhodes, 
then,  as  now,  a  popular  resort  for  the  students. 
Later,  we  learned  that  he  danced  several  times. 
The  next  morning  and  X-ray  clearly  showed  a 
complete  fracture  of  the  tibia. 

"How  it  was  possible  for  a  man,  with  a  broken 
leg,  to  walk  around  and  dance,  as  he  did,  is  more 
than  I  can  fathom." 

What  is  there  in  a  man's  makeup  that  leads 
him  to  conceal  from  the  trainer  an  injury  that  he 
receives  in  a  game;  that  makes  him  stay  in  the 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     235 

field  of  play?  Why  is  it  that  he  disregards  him- 
self, and  goes  on  in  the  game,  suffering  physical 
as  well  as  mental  tortures,  plucky  though  handi- 
capped? The  playing  of  such  men  is  extended 
far  beyond  the  point  of  their  usefulness.  Yes, 
even  into  the  danger  zone.  Such  men  give  every- 
thing they  have  in  them  while  it  lasts.  It  is  not 
intelligent  football,  however,  and  what  might  be 
called  bravery  is  foolishness  after  all.  It  is  an 
unwritten  law  in  football  that  a  fresh  substitute 
is  far  superior  to  a  crippled  star.  The  keen  de- 
sire to  remain  in  the  game  is  so  firmly  fixed  in  his 
mind  that  he  is  willing  to  sacrifice  himself,  and  at 
the  same  time  by  concealing  his  injuiy  from  the 
trainer  and  coaches  he,  unconsciously,  is  sacri- 
ficing his  team ;  his  power  is  gone. 

One  of  the  greatest  exhibitions  of  grit  ever 
seen  in  a  football  game  was  given  by  Harry 
Watson  of  Williams  in  a  game  at  Newton  Cen- 
ter between  Williams  and  Dartmouth.  He  was 
knocked  out  about  eight  times  but  absolutely  re- 
fused to  leave  the  field. 

Another  was  furnished  by  W.  H.  Lewis,  the 
Amlierst  captain  and  center  rush,  against  Wil- 
liams in  his  last  game  at  Amherst — the  score  was 
0-0  on  a  wet  field.  Williams  was  a  big  favorite 
but  Lewis  played  a  wonderful  game,  and  was  all 
over  the  field  on  the  defense.  Wlien  the  game 
was  over  he  was  carried  off,  but  refused  to  leave 
the  field  until  the  final  whistle. 

One  of  the  most  thrilling  stories  of  a  man  who 


236  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

was  game,  though  handicapped,  is  told  by  Morris 
Ely,  quarterback  for  Yale,  1898. 

*'My  most  vivid  recollection  of  the  Harvard- 
Yale  game  of  1898  is  that  Harvard  won  by  the 
largest  score  Yale  had  ever  been  beaten  by  up  to 
that  time,  17  to  0.  Next,  that  the  game  seemed 
unusually  long.  I  believe  I  proved  a  good  ex- 
ponent of  the  theory  of  being  in  good  condition. 
I  started  the  game  at  135  pounds,  in  the  best 
physical  condition  I  have  ever  enjoyed,  and  while 
I  managed  to  accumulate  two  broken  ribs,  a 
broken  collar-bone  and  a  sprained  shoulder,  I  was 
discharged  by  the  doctor  in  less  than  three  weeks 
as  good  as  ever. 

"I  received  the  broken  ribs  in  the  first  half 
when  Percy  Jaffrey  fell  on  me  with  a  proper  in- 
tention of  having  me  drop  a  fumbled  ball  behind 
our  goal  line,  which  would  have  given  Harvard 
an  additional  touchdown  instead  of  a  touchback. 
I  did  not  know  just  what  had  gone  wrong  but 
tried  to  help  it  out  by  putting  a  shin  guard  un- 
der my  jersey  over  the  ribs  during  the  intermis- 
sion.    No  one  knew  I  was  hurt. 

"In  the  second  half  I  tried  to  stop  one  of  Ben 
Dibblee's  runs  on  a  punt  and  got  a  broken  collar- 
bone, but  not  Dibblee.  About  the  end  of  the 
game  we  managed  to  work  a  successful  double 
pass  and  I  carried  the  ball  to  Harvard's  ten- 
yard  Ikie  when  Charlie  Daly,  who  was  playing 
back  on  defense,  stopped  any  chance  we  had  of 
scoring  by  a  hard  tackle.     There  was  no  getting 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     237 

away  from  him  that  day,  and  as  I  had  to  carry 
the  ball  in  the  wrong  arm  with  no  free  arm  to  use 
to  ward  him  off,  I  presume,  I  got  oif  pretty  well 
with  only  a  sprained  shoulder.  The  next  play 
ended  the  game,  when  Stub  Chamberlin  tried  a 
quick  place  goal  from  the  field  and,  on  a  poor 
pass  and  on  my  poor  handling  of  the  ball,  hit  the 
goal  post  and  the  ball  bounded  back.  I  admit 
that  just  about  that  tim^e  the  whistle  sounded 
pretty  good  as  apparently  the  entire  Harvard 
team  landed  on  us  in  their  attempt  to  block  a 
kick." 

Val  Flood,  once  a  trainer  at  Princeton,  recalls 
a  game  at  New  Haven,  when  Princeton  was  play- 
ing Yale : 

"Frank  Bergen  was  quarter-back,"  he  says. 
"I  saw  he  was  not  going  right,  and  surprised  the 
coaches  by  asking  them  to  make  a  change. 
They  asked  me  to  wait.  In  a  few  minutes  I 
went  to  them  again,  with  the  same  result.  I 
came  back  a  third  time,  and  insisted  that  he  be 
taken  out.  A  substitute  was  put  in.  I  will 
never  forget  Bergen's  face  when  he  burst  into 
tears  and  asked  me  who  was  responsible  for  his 
being  taken  out.  I  told  him  I  was.  It  almost 
broke  his  heart,  for  he  had  always  regarded  me 
as  a  friend.  I  knew  how  much  he  wanted  to 
play  the  game  out.  He  lived  in  New  Haven. 
When  the  doctor  examined  him,  it  was  fomid 
that  he  had  three  broken  ribs.  There  was  great 
danger  of  one  of  them  piercing  his  lungs  had  he 


238  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

continued  in  the  game.  Of  course,  there  are  lots 
of  boys  that  are  wilhng  to  do  such  things  for  their 
Ahna  Mater,  but  the  gamest  of  all  is  the  man 
who,  with  a  broken  neck  to  start  with,  went  out 
and  put  in  four  years  of  college  football.  I 
refer  to  Eddie  Hart,  who  was  not  only  the  gam- 
est, but  one  of  the  strongest,  quickest,  cleanest 
men  that  ever  played  the  game,  and  any  one  who 
knows  Eddie  Hart  and  those  who  have  seen  him 
play,  know  that  he  never  saved  himself  but 
played  the  game  for  all  it  was  worth.  He  was 
the  life  and  spirit  of  ever}^  team  he  ever  played 
on  at  Exeter  or  Princeton." 

Ed  Wylie,  an  enthusiastic  Hill  School  Alum- 
nus, football  player  at  Hill  and  Yale,  tells  the 
following  anecdote : 

"The  nerviest  thing  I  ever  saw  in  a  football 
game  was  in  the  Hill-Hotchkiss  0  to  0  game  in 
1904.  At  the  start  of  the  second  half,  Arthur 
Cable,  who  was  Hill's  quarter-back,  broke  his 
collar-bone.  He  concealed  the  fact  and  until 
the  end  of  the  game,  no  one  knew  how  badly  he 
was  hurt.  He  was  in  every  play,  and  never  had 
time  called  but  once.  He  caught  a  couple  of 
punts  with  his  one  good  arm  and  every  other 
punt  he  attempted  to  catch  and  muffed  he  saved 
the  ball  from  the  other  side  by  falling  on  it.  In 
the  same  game,  a  peculiar  thing  happened  to  me. 
I  tackled  Ted  Coy  about  fifteen  minutes  before 
the  end  of  the  game,  and  until  I  awoke  hours 
later,  lying  in  a  drawing-room  car,  pulhng  into 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     239 

the  Grand  Central  Station,  my  mind  was  a 
blank.  Yet  I  am  told  the  last  fifteen  minutes 
of  the  game  I  played  well,  especially  when  our 
line  was  going  to  pieces.  I  made  several  gains 
on  the  offensive,  never  missed  a  signal  and 
punted  two  or  three  times  when  close  to  our  goal 
line." 

No  less  noteworthy  is  the  spirit  of  a  University 
of  Pennsylvania  player,  who  was  handicapped 
during  his  gridiron  career  with  Perm'  by  many 
severe  injuries.  This  man  had  worked  as  hard 
as  any  one  possibly  could  to  make  the  varsity  for 
three  years.  His  last  year  was  no  different  from 
previous  seasons;  injuries  always  worked  against 
him.  In  his  final  j^ear  he  had  broken  his  leg  early 
in  the  season.  A  short  time  before  the  Cornell 
game  he  appeared  upon  the  field  in  football  togs, 
full  of  spirit  and  determined  to  get  in  the  game 
if  they  needed  him.  This  was  his  last  chance 
to  play  on  the  Penn'  team. 

I  was  an  official  in  that  game.  Near  its  close 
I  saw  him  warming  up  on  the  side  line.  His 
knee  was  done  up  in  a  plaster  cast.  He  could 
do  nothing  better  than  hobble  along  the  side 
lines,  but  in  the  closing  moments  when  Penn' 
had  the  game  well  in  hand,  a  mighty  shout  went 
up  from  the  side  lines,  as  that  gallant  fellow, 
who  had  been  handicapped  all  during  his  foot- 
ball career,  rushed  out  upon  the  field  to  take 
his  place  as  the  defensive  halfback.  Cornell  had 
the  ball,  and  they  were  making  a  tremendous  ef- 


240  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

fort  to  score.  The  Cornell  captain,  not  knowing 
of  this  man's  phj^sical  condition,  sent  a  play  in 
his  direction.  The  interference  of  the  big  red 
team  crashed  successfully  around  the  Penn'  end 
and  there  was  left  only  this  plucky,  though  han- 
dicapped player,  between  the  Cornell  runner  and 
a  touchdown. 

Putting  aside  all  personal  thought,  he  rushed 
in  and  made  a  wonderful  tackle.  Then  this 
hero  was  carried  off  the  field,  and  with  him  the 
tradition  of  one  who  was  wilhng  to  sacrifice  him- 
self for  the  sport  he  loved. 

Andy  Smith,  a  former  University  of  Pennsyl- 
vania player,  was  a  man  who  was  game  through 
and  through.  He  seemed  to  play  better  in  a 
severe  game,  when  the  odds  were  against  him. 
Smith  had  formerly  been  at  Pennsylvania  State 
College.  In  a  game  between  Penn'  State  and 
Dartmouth,  Fred  Crolius,  of  Dartmouth,  says 
of  Smith: 

"Andy  Smith  was  one  of  the  gamest  men  I 
ever  played  against.  This  big,  determined, 
husky  offensive  fullback  and  defensive  end,  when 
he  wasn't  butting  his  head  into  our  impregnable 
line,  was  smashing  an  interference  that  nearly 
killed  him  in  every  other  play.  Battered  and 
bruised  he  kept  coming  on,  and  to  every  one's 
surprise  he  lasted  the  entire  game.  Years  after- 
ward he  showed  me  the  scars  on  his  head,  where 
the  wounds  had  healed,  with  the  naive  remark: 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     241 

*Some  team  you  fellows  had  that  year,  Fred.' 
Some  team  was  right.  And  Wv  all  remember 
Andy  and  his  own  individual  greatness." 

There  is  no  finer,  unselfish  spirit  brought  out 
in  football,  than  that  evidenced  in  the  following 
story,  told  by  Shep  Homans,  an  old  time  Prince- 
ton fullback: 

"A  young  fellow  named  Hodge,  who  was 
quarterback  on  the  Princeton  scrub,  was  making 
a  terrific  effort  to  play  the  best  he  could  on  the 
last  day  of  practice  before  the  Yale  game.  He 
had  hoped  even  at  the  last  hour  that  the 
opportunity  might  be  afforded  him  to  be  a 
substitute  quarter  in  the  game.  However,  his 
leg  was  broken  in  a  scrimmage.  As  he  lay  on  the 
ground  in  great  pain,  realizing  what  had  hap- 
pened and  forgetting  himself,  he  looked  up  and 
said: 

"  'I'm  mighty  glad  it  is  not  one  of  the  regulars 
who  is  hurt,  so  that  our  chance  against  Yale  will 
not  be  affected.'  " 

Crolius,  one  of  the  hardest  men  to  stop  that 
Dartmouth  ever  had,  tells  of  Arthur  Poe's  game- 
ness,  when  they  played  together  on  the  Home- 
stead Athletic  Club  team,  after  they  left  col- 
lege. "Arthur  Poe  was  about  as  game  a  man 
as  the  football  world  ever  saw.  He  was  handi- 
capped in  his  playing  by  a  knee  which  would 
easily  slip  out  of  place.  We  men  who  played 
with  him  on  the  Homestead  team  were  often 


242  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

stopped  after  Arthur  had  made  a  magnificent 
tackle  and  had  broken  up  heavy  interference, 
with  this  quiet  request: 

*'  'Pull  my  bum  knee  back  into  place.' 

"After  this  was  done,  he  would  jump  up  and 
no  one  would  ever  know  that  it  had  been  out. 
This  man,  who  perhaps  was  the  smallest  man 
playing  at  that  time,  was  absolutely  unprotected. 
His  suit  consisted  of  a  pair  of  shoes,  stockings, 
unpadded  pants,  jersey  and  one  elastic  knee 
bandage." 

Mike  Don,ohue,  a  Yale  man  who  had  been 
coach  at  Auburn  for  many  years,  vouches  for  the 
following  story: 

When  Mike  went  to  Auburn  and  for  sev- 
eral years  thereafter  he  had  no  one  to  assist  him, 
except  a  few  of  the  old  players,  who  would  drop 
in  for  a  day  or  so  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
season.  One  afternoon  Mike  happened  to 
glance  down  at  the  lower  end  of  the  field  where  a 
squad  of  grass-cutters  (the  name  given  to  the 
fourth  and  fifth  teams)  were  booting  the  ball 
around,  when  he  noticed  a  pretty  good  sized  boy 
who  was  swinging  his  foot  into  the  ball  with  a 
good  stiff  leg  and  was  kicking  high  and  get- 
ting fine  distance.  Mike  made  a  mental  note  of 
this  fact  and  decided  to  investigate  later,  as  a 
good  punter  was  very  hard  to  find. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  he  again  looked  towards 
the  lower  end  of  the  field  and  saw  that  the  grass- 
cutters  were  lining  up  for  a  scrimmage  among 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     243 

themselves,  using  that  part  of  the  field,  which 
was  behind  the  goal  post,  so  he  dismissed  the 
squad  with  which  he  had  been  working  and  went 
down  to  see  what  the  boy  he  had  noticed  early  in 
the  afternoon  really  looked  like.  When  he  ar- 
rived he  soon  found  the  boy  he  was  looking  for. 
He  was  playing  left  end  and  Mike  immediately 
noticed  that  he  had  his  right  leg  extended  per- 
fectly straight  behind  him.  Stopping  the  play, 
Mike  went  over  to  the  fellow  and  slapping  him  on 
the  back  said: 

"Don't  keep  that  right  leg  stiff  behind  you  like 
that.  Pull  it  up  under  you.  Bend  it  at  the 
knee  so  you  can  get  a  good  start." 

With  a  sad  expression  on  his  face,  and  tears 
almost  in  his  eyes,  the  boy  turned  to  JNIike  and 
said: 

"Coach,  that  damn  thing  won't  bend.  It's 
wood." 

Vonalbalde  Gammon,  one  of  the  few  players 
who  met  his  death  in  an  inter-collegiate  game, 
lived  at  Rome,  Georgia,  and  entered  the  Univer- 
sity of  Georgia  in  1896.  He  made  the  team  his 
first  year,  playing  quarterback  on  the  eleven 
which  was  coached  by  Pop  Warner  and  which 
won  the  Southern  championship.  He  received 
the  injury  which  caused  his  death  in  the  Georgia- 
Virginia  game,  played  in  Atlanta,  Georgia,  on 
October  30th,  1897.  He  was  a  fine  fellow  per- 
sonally and  one  of  the  most  popular  men  at  the 
University.     As  a  football  player,  he  was  an  ex- 


244  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

cellent  punter,  a  good  plunger,  and  a  strong  de- 
fensive man.  On  account  of  his  kicking  and 
plunging  ability  he  was  moved  to  fullback  in  his 
second  year. 

In  the  Virginia  game  he  backed  up  the  line  on 
the  defense.  All  that  afternoon  he  vv^orked 
like  a  Trojan  to  hold  in  check  the  powerful 
masses  Virginia  had  been  di'iving  at  the  tackles. 
Early  in  the  second  half  Von  dove  in  and  stopped 
a  mass  aimed  at  Georgia's  right  tackle,  but  when 
the  mass  was  untangled,  he  was  unable  to  get 
up.  An  examination  showed  that  he  was  badly 
hurt.  In  a  minute  or  two,  however,  he  revived 
and  was  set  on  his  feet  and  was  being  taken  from 
the  field  by  Coach  McCarthy,  when  Captain 
Kent,  thinking  that  he  was  not  too  badly  hurt  to 
continue  in  the  game,  said  to  him: 

"Von,  you  are  not  going  to  give  up,  are  you?" 

"No,  Bill,"  he  replied,  "I've  got  too  much 
Georgia  grit  for  that." 

These  were  his  last  words,  for  upon  reaching 
the  side  Hues  he  lapsed  into  unconsciousness  and 
died  at  two  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

Gammon's  death  ended  the  football  season  that 
year  at  the  University.  It  also  came  very  near 
ending  football  in  the  State  of  Georgia,  as  the 
Legislature  was  in  session,  and  immediately 
passed  a  bill  prohibiting  the  playing  of  the  game 
in  the  State. 

However,    Mrs.    Gammon — Von's    mother — 


HARD  LUCK  IN  THE  GAME     245 

made  a  strong,  earnest  and  personal  appeal  to 
Governor  Atkinson  to  veto  the  bill,  which  he  did. 

Had  it  not  been  for  Mrs.  Gammon,  football 
would  certainly  have  been  abolished  in  the  State 
of  Georgia  by  an  act  of  the  Legislature  of  1897. 

I  knew  a  great  guard  whose  whole  heart  was 
set  on  making  the  Princeton  team,  and  on  play- 
ing against  Yale.  This  man  made  the  team. 
In  a  Princeton-Columbia  game  he  was  trying 
his  best  to  stop  that  wonderful  Columbia  player, 
Harold  Weekes,  who  with  his  great  hurdling 
play  was  that  season's  sensation.  In  his  hurdling 
he  seemed  to  take  his  life  in  his  hands,  going  over 
the  line  of  the  opposing  team  feet  first.  When 
the  great  guard  of  the  Princeton  team  to  whom  I 
refer  tried  to  stop  Weekes,  his  head  collided  with 
Weekes'  feet  and  was  badly  cut. 

The  trainer  rushed  upon  the  field,  sponged  and 
dressed  the  wound  and  the  guard  continued  to 
play.  But  that  night  it  was  discovered  that 
bloodpoisoning  had  set  in.  There  was  gloom  on 
the  team  when  this  became  known.  But  John 
Dana,  lying  there  injured  in  the  hospital,  and 
knowing  how  badly  his  services  were  needed  in 
the  coming  game  with  Yale,  with  his  ambition 
unsatisfied,  used  his  wits  to  appear  better  than 
he  really  was  in  order  to  get  discharged  from  the 
hospital  and  back  on  the  team. 

The  physician  who  attended  him  has  told  me 
since  that  Dana  would  keep  his  mouth  open  slyly 


246  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

when  the  nurse  was  taking  his  temperature  so 
that  it  would  not  be  too  high  and  the  chart  would 
make  it  appear  that  he  was  all  right. 

At  any  rate,  he  seemed  to  improve  steadily,  and 
finally  reported  to  the  trainer,  Jim  Robinson,  two 
days  before  the  Yale  game.  He  was  full  of  hope 
and  the  coaches  decided  to  have  Robinson  give 
him  a  try-out,  so  that  they  could  decide  whether 
he  was  as  fit  as  he  was  making  it  appear  he  was. 

I  shall  never  forget  watching  that  heroic  effort, 
as  Robinson  took  him  out  behind  the  training 
house,  to  make  the  final  test.  With  a  head-gear, 
especially  made  for  him,  Dana  settled  down  in  his 
regular  position,  ready  for  the  charge,  anticipat- 
ing the  oncoming  Yale  half-back  and  throbbing 
with  eagerness  to  tackle  the  man  with  the  ball. 

Then  he  plunged  forward,  both  arms  extended, 
but  handicapped  by  his  terrible  injury,  he  top- 
pled over  upon  his  face,  heart-broken.  The 
spirit  was  there,  but  he  was  physically  unfit  for 
the  task. 

The  Yale  game  started  without  Dana,  and  as 
he  sat  there  on  the  side  lines  and  saw  Princeton 
go  down  to  defeat,  he  was  overcome  with  the 
thought  of  his  helplessness.  He  was  needed,  but 
he  didn't  have  a  chance. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON 

HAPPY  is  the  thought  of  victory,  and 
while  we  reahze  that  there  should  al- 
ways be  eleven  men  in  every  play,  each 
man  doing  his  duty,  there  frequently  comes  a 
time  in  a  game,  when  some  one  man  earns  the 
credit  for  winning  the  game,  and  brings  home  the 
bacon.  Maybe  he  has  been  the  captain  of  the 
team,  with  a  wonderful  power  of  leadership 
which  had  held  the  Eleven  together  all  season  and 
made  his  team  a  winning  one.  From  the  recol- 
lections of  some  of  the  victories,  from  the  experi- 
ences of  the  men  who  participated  in  them  and 
made  victory  possible,  let  us  play  some  of  those 
games  over  with  some  of  the  heroes  of  past 
years. 

Billy  Bull 

One  of  the  truly  great  bacon-getters  of  the 
past  is  Yale's  Billy  Bull.  Football  history  is 
full  of  his  exploits  when  he  played  on  the  Yale 
team  in  '85,  '86,  '87  and  '88.  Old-time  players 
can  sit  up  all  night  telling  stories  of  the  games  in 
which  he  scored  for  Yale.  His  kicking  proved 
a  winning  card  and  in  happy  recollection  the  old- 

247 


248  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

timers  tell  of  Bull,  the  hero  of  many  a  game, 
being  carried  off  the  field  on  the  shoulders  of  an 
admiring  crowd  of  Yale  men  after  a  big  victory. 

"In  the  course  of  my  years  at  Yale,  six  big 
games  were  played,"  says  Bull,  "four  with 
Princeton  and  two  with  Harvard.  I  was  for- 
tunate in  being  able  to  go  through  all  of  them, 
sustaining  no  injury  whatsoever,  except  in  the 
last  game  with  Princeton.  In  this  game,  Chan- 
ning  came  thi-ough  to  me  in  the  fullback  position 
and  in  tackling  him  I  received  a  scalp  wound 
which  did  not,  however,  necessitate  my  removal 
from  the  game. 

"Of  the  six  games  played,  only  one  was  lost, 
and  that  was  the  Lamar  game  in  the  fall  of  '85. 
In  the  five  games  won  I  was  the  regular  kicker 
in  the  last  three,  and,  in  two  of  these,  kicking 
proved  to  be  the  deciding  factor.  Thus  in  '87 — 
Yale  17,  Harvard  8 — two  place  kicks  and  one 
drop  kick  were  scored  in  the  three  attempts,  to- 
taling nine  points.  Considering  the  punting  I 
did  that  day,  and  the  fact  that  both  place-kicks 
were  scored  from  close  to  the  side  lines,  I  feel 
that  that  game  represents  my  best  work. 

"The  third  year  of  my  play  was  undoubtedly 
my  best  year;  in  fact  the  only  year  in  which  I 
might  lay  claim  to  being  anything  of  a  kicker. 
Thus  in  the  Rutgers  game  of  '87  I  kicked  twelve 
straight  goals  from  placement.  Counting  the 
two  goals  from  touchdowns  against  Princeton  I 
had  a  batting  average  of  1000  in  three  games. 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     249 

"Through  the  last  year  I  was  handicapped 
with  a  lame  kicking  leg  and  was  out  of  form,  for 
in  the  final  game  with  Princeton  that  year,  '88, 
I  tried  at  least  four  times  before  scoring  the  first 
field  goal  of  the  game.  In  the  second  half  I 
had  but  one  chance  and  that  was  successful. 
This  was  the  10-0  game,  in  which  all  the  points 
were  scored  by  kicking,  although  the  ground  was 
wet  and  slippery. 

"It  is  of  interest  to  note,  in  connection  witK 
drop-kicking  in  the  old  days,  that  the  proposi- 
tion was  not  the  simple  matter  it  is  to-day. 
Then,  the  ball  had  to  go  through  the  quarter's 
hands,  and  the  kicker  in  consequence  had  so  little 
time  in  which  to  get  the  ball  away  that  he  was 
really  forced  to  kick  in  his  tracks  and  immediately 
on  receipt  of  the  ball.  Fortunately  I  was  able  to 
do  both,  and  I  never  had  a  try  for  a  drop  blocked, 
and  only  one  punt,  the  latter  due  to  the  fact  that 
the  ball  was  down  by  the  side  line,  and  I  could 
not  run  to  the  left  (which  would  have  taken  me 
out  of  bounds)  before  kicking. 

"Perhaps  one  of  the  greatest  sources  of  satis- 
faction to  me,  speaking  of  punting  in  particular, 
was  the  fact  that  I  was  never  blocked  by  Prince- 
ton. And  yet  it  was  exti-emely  fortunate  for 
me  that  I  was  a  left-footed  kicker  and  thus  could 
run  away  from  Cowan,  who  played  a  left  tackle 
before  kicking.  If  I  had  had  to  use  my  right 
foot  I  doubt  if  I  could  have  got  away  with 
anything,  for  Cowan  was  certainly  a  wonderful 


250  rOOTBALL  DAYS 

player  and  could  get  through  the  Yale  line  as 
though  it  were  paper.  He  always  brought  me 
down,  but  always  after  the  ball  had  left  my  foot. 
I  know  that  it  has  been  thought  at  Princeton  that 
I  stood  twelve  yards  back  from  the  line  when 
kicking.  This  was  not  so.  Ten  yards  was  the 
regular  distance,  always.  But,  I  either  kicked 
in  my  tracks  or  directly  after  running  to  the 
left." 

THE  DAY   COLUMBIA  BEAT  YALE 

Columbia  men  enthusiastically  recall  the  day 
Columbia  beat  Yale.  A  Columbia  man  who  is 
always  on  hand  for  the  big  games  of  the  year  is 
Charles  Halstead  Mapes,  the  ever  reliable,  loyal 
rooter  for  the  game.  He  has  told  the  tale  of  this 
victory  so  wonderfully  well  that  football  en- 
thusiasts cannot  but  enjoy  this  enthusiastic  Co- 
lumbia version. 

"Fifteen  years  ago  Yale  was  supreme  in 
football,"  runs  Mapes'  story.  "Occasionally, 
but  only  very  occasionally,  one  of  their  great 
rivals,  Princeton  or  Harvard,  would  win  a  game 
from  them,  but  for  any  outsider,  anybody  ex- 
cept one  of  the  'Eternal  Triangle,'  to  beat  Yale 
was  out  of  the  question — an  utter  impossibility. 
And,  by  the  way,  that  Triangle  at  times  got  al- 
most as  much  on  the  nerves  of  the  outside  public 
as  the  Frenchmen's  celebrated  three — wife,  hus- 
band, lover — the  foundation  of  their  plays. 

"The  psychological  effect  of  Yale's  past  pres- 
tige was  all-powerful  in  every  game.     The  blue- 


TWO  ACES— BILL  JMOKLEY  AND   llAKOLD   WEEKS 


•BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     251 

jerseyed  figures  with  the  white  Y  would  tumble 
through  the  gate  and  spread  out  on  the  field ;  the 
stands  would  rise  to  them  with  a  roar  of  joyous 
welcome  that  would  raise  the  very  skies — Y-a-l-e ! 
Y-a-l-e!     Y— A— L— E! 

**  'Small  wonder  that  each  man  was  right  on  his 
toes,  felt  as  though  he  were  made  of  steel  springs. 
All  other  Yale  teams  had  won,  'We  will  win,  of 
course.' 

"But  the  poor  other  side — they  might  just  as 
well  throw  their  canvas  jackets  and  mole-skin 
trousers  in  the  old  suit-case  at  once  and  go  home. 
*Beat  Yale!  boys,  we're  crazy,  but  every  man 
must  try  his  damnedest  to  keep  the  score  low,' 
and  so  the  game  was  won  and  lost  before  the  ref- 
eree even  blew  his  starting  whistle. 

"This  was  the  general  rule,  but  every  rule  needs 
an  exception  to  prove  it,  and  on  a  certain  No- 
vember afternoon  in  1899  we  gave  them  their 
belly-full  of  exception.  We  had  a  very  strong 
team  that  year,  with  some  truly  great  players, 
Harold  Weekes  and  Bill  INIorley  (there  never 
were  two  better  men  behind  the  line),  and  Jack 
Wright,  old  Jack  Wright,  playing  equally  well 
guard  or  center,  as  fine  a  linesman  as  I  have 
ever  seen.  Weekes,  Morley,  and  Wright  were 
on  the  All-American  team  of  that  year,  and 
Walter  Camp  in  selecting  his  All-American  team 
for  All  Time  several  years  ago  picked  Harold 
Weekes  as  his  first  half-back. 

"I  can  see  the  game  now;  there  was  no  scoring 


252  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

in  the  first  half.  To  the  outsider  the  teams 
seemed  evenly  matched,  but  we,  who  knew  our 
men,  thought  we  saw  that  the  power  was  there; 
and  if  they  could  but  realize  their  strength  and 
that  they  had  it  in  them  to  lay  low  at  last  that 
armor-plated  old  rhinoceros,  the  terror  of  the  col- 
lege jungle — Yale, — with  an  even  break  of  luck, 
the  game  must  be  ours. 

"In  the  second  half  our  opportunity  came. 
iBy  one  of  the  shifting  chances  of  the  game  we 
got  the  ball  on  about  their  25-yard  line ;  one  yard, 
three  yards,  two  yards,  four  yards,  we  went 
through  them;  there  was  no  stopping  us,  and  at 
last — over,  well  over,  for  a  touchdown. 

"Through  some  technicality  in  the  last  rush  the 
officials,  instead  of  allowing  the  touchdown,  took 
the  ball  away  from  us  and  gave  it  to  Yale.  They 
were  right,  probably  quite  right,  but  how  could 
we  think  so?  Yale  at  once  kicked  the  ball  to  the 
middle  of  the  field  well  out  of  danger.  The 
teams  lined  up. 

"On  the  very  next  play,  with  every  man  of  that 
splendidly  trained  Eleven  doing  his  allotted  work, 
Harold  Weekes  swept  around  the  end,  aided  by 
the  magnificent  interference  of  Jack  Wright, 
which  gave  him  his  start.  He  ran  half  the  length 
of  the  field,  tlu'ough  the  entire  Yale  team,  and 
planted  the  ball  squarely  behind  the  goal  posts 
for  the  touchdown  which  won  the  game.  If  we 
had  ever  had  any  doubt  that  cruel  wrong  is 
righted,  that  truth  and  justice  must  prevail,  it 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     253 

was  swept  away  that  moment  in  a  great  wave  of 
thanksgiving. 

"I  shall  never  forget  it — Columbia  had  beaten 
Yale!  Tears  running  down  my  cheeks,  shaken 
by  emotion,  I  couldn't  speak,  let  alone  cheer. 
My  best  girl  was  with  me.  She  gave  one  quick 
half-frightened  glance  and  I  believe  almost  real- 
ized all  I  felt.  She  was  all  gold.  I  feel  now  the 
timid  little  pressure  on  my  arm  as  she  tried  to 
help  me  regain  control  of  myself.  God!  why  has 
life  so  few  such  moments !" 

BEHIND  THE  SCENES 

Let  us  go  into  the  dressing  room  of  a  victorious 
team,  which  defeated  Yale  at  Manhattan  Field 
a  good  many  years  ago  and  let  us  read  with  that 
great  lover  of  football,  the  late  Richard  Harding 
Davis,  as  he  describes  so  wonderfully  well  some 
of  the  unique  things  that  happened  in  the  cele- 
bration of  victory. 

"People  who  live  far  away  from  New  York  and 
who  cannot  understand  from  the  faint  echoes  they 
receive  how  great  is  the  enthusiasm  that  this  con- 
test arouses,  may  possibly  get  some  idea  of  what 
it  means  to  the  contestants  themselves  through 
the  story  of  a  remarkable  incident,  that  oc- 
curred after  the  game  in  the  Princeton  dressing 
room.  The  team  were  being  rubbed  down  for 
the  last  time  and  after  their  three  months  of  self 
denial  and  anxiety  and  the  hardest  and  roughest 
sort  of  work  that  young  men  are  called  upon  to 


254  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

do,  and  outside  in  the  semi-darkness  thousands  of 
Princeton  followers  were  jumping  up  and  down 
and  hugging  each  other  and  shrieking  themselves 
hoarse.  One  of  the  Princeton  coaches  came  into 
the  room  out  of  this  mob,  and  holding  up  his  arm 
for  silence  said, 

"  'Boys,  I  want  you  to  sing  the  doxology.'  " 
Standing  as  they  were,  naked  and  covered 
with  mud,  blood  and  perspiration,  the  eleven  men 
that  had  won  the  championship  sang  the  Doxol- 
ogy from  the  beginning  to  the  end  as  solemnly 
and  as  seriously,  and  I  am  sure,  as  sincerely,  as 
they  ever  did  in  their  lives,  while  outside  the  no 
less  thankful  fellow-students  yelled  and  cheered 
and  beat  at  the  doors  and  windows  and  howled 
for  them  to  come  out  and  show  themselves.  This 
may  strike  some  people  as  a  very  sacrilegious  per- 
formance and  as  a  most  improper  one,  but  the 
spirit  in  which  it  was  done  has  a  great  deal  to  do 
with  the  question,  and  any  one  who  has  seen  a 
defeated  team  lying  on  the  benches  of  their  dress- 
ing room,  sobbing  like  hysterical  school  girls,  can 
understand  how  great  and  how  serious  is  the  joy 
of  victory  to  the  men  that  conquer." 

Introducing  Vic  Kennard,  opportunist  extra- 
ordinary. Where  is  the  Harvard  man,  Yale 
man,  or  indeed  any  football  man  who  will  not  be 
stirred  by  the  recollection  of  his  remarkable  goal 
from  the  field  at  New  Haven  that  provided  the 
winning  points  for  the  eleven  Percy  Haughton 
turned  out  in  the  first  year  of  his  regime.     To 


m 

Pi 
< 
'A 
'A 
W 

o 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     255 

Kennard  himself  the  memory  is  still  vivid,  and 
there  are  side  lights  on  that  performance  and  in- 
deed on  all  his  football  days  at  Cambridge,  of 
which  he  alone  can  tell.  I'll  not  make  a  con- 
versation of  this,  but  simply  say  as  one  does 
over  the  'phone,  "Kennard  talking": — 

"Many  of  us  are  under  the  impression  that  the 
only  real  football  fan  is  molded  from  the  male 
sex  and  that  the  female  of  the  species  attends  the 
game  for  decorative  purposes  only.  I  protest. 
Listen.  In  1908  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  be 
selected  to  enter  the  Harvard- Yale  Game  at  New 
Haven,  for  the  purpose  of  scoring  on  Yale  in  a 
most  undignified  way,  through  the  medium  of  a 
drop-kick,  Haughton  realizing  that  while  a 
touchdown  was  distinctly  preferable,  he  was  not 
afraid  to  fight  it  out  in  the  next  best  way. 

"]My  prayers  were  answered,  for  the  ball  some- 
how or  other  made  its  way  over  the  crossbar  and 
between  the  uprights,  making  the  score.  Harvard 
4,  Yale  0.  ]My  mother,  who  had  made  her  way 
to  New  Haven  by  a  forced  march,  was  sitting  in 
the  middle  of  the  stand  on  the  Yale  (no,  I'm 
wrong,  it  was,  on  second  thought,  on  the  Harvard 
side)  accompanied  by  my  two  brothers,  one  of 
whom  forgot  himself  far  enough  to  go  to  Yale, 
and  will  not  even  to  this  day  acknowledge  his 
hideous  mistake. 

"Five  or  six  minutes  before  the  end  of  the 
game,  one  E.  H.  Coy  decided  that  the  time  was 
getting  short  and  Yale  needed  a  touchdown.     So 


256  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

he  grabbed  a  Harvard  punt  on  the  run  and 
started.  Yes,  he  did  more  than  start,  he  got  well 
under  way,  circled  the  Harvard  end  and  after 
galloping  fifteen  yards,  apparently  concluded 
that  I  would  look  well  as  minced  meat,  and 
headed  straight  for  me,  stationed  well  back  on 
the  secondary  defense.  He  had  received  no  in- 
vitation whatsoever,  but  owing  to  the  fact  that 
I  believe  every  Harvard  man  should  be  at  least 
cordial  to  every  Yale  man,  I  decided  to  go  50-50 
and  meet  him  half  way. 

"We  met  informally.     That  I  know.     I  will 
never  forget  that.     He  weighed  only  195  pounds, 
but  I  am  sure  he  had  another  couple  of  hundred 
tucked  away  somewhere.     When  I  had  finished 
counting  a  great  variety  and  number  of  stars,  it 
occurred  to  me  that  I  had  been  in  a  ghastly  rail- 
road wreck,  and  that  the  engine  and  cars  follow- 
ing had  picked  out  my  right  knee  as  a  nice  soft 
place  to  pile  up  on.     There  was  a  feeling  of 
great  relief  when  I  looked  around  and  saw  that 
the  engineer  of  that  train,  Mr.  E.  H.  Coy,  had 
stopped  with  the  train,  and  I  held  the  greatest 
hopes  that  neither  the  engine  nor  any  one  of  the 
ten  cars  following  would  ever  reach  the  terminal. 
"Mother,  who  had  seen  the  whole  performance, 
was  little  concerned  with  other  than  the  fact  that 
E.  H.  had  been  delayed.     His  mission  had  been 
more  than  delayed — as  it  turned  out,  it  had  been 
postponed.     In  the  meantime  Dr.  Nichols  of  the 
Harvard  staff  of  first  aid  was  working  with  my 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     257 

knee,  and  from  the  stands  it  looked  as  though  I 
might  have  broken  my  leg. 

"At  this  point  some  one  who  sat  almost  directly 
back  of  my  mother  called  out  loud,  'That's  young 
^.Kennard.  It  looks  as  though  he'd  broken  his 
leg.'  My  brother,  feeling  that  mother  had  not 
heard  the  remark,  and  not  knowing  what  he  might 
say,  turned  and  informed  him  that  Mrs.  Kennard 
was  sitting  almost  directly  in  front  of  him,  re- 
questing that  he  be  careful  what  he  said. 
Mother,  however,  heard  the  whole  thing,  and 
turning  in  her  seat  said,  'That's  all  right,  I  don't 
care  if  his  leg  is  broken,  if  we  only  win  this  game.' 

*'My  mother,  who  is  a  great  football  fan,  after 
following  the  game  for  three  or  four  years, 
learned  all  the  slang  expressions  typical  of  foot- 
ball. She  tried  to  work  out  new  plays,  criticised 
the  generalship  occasionally,  and  fairly  'ate  and 
slept'  football  during  the  months  of  October  and 
November.  Wliile  the  season  was  in  progress  I 
usually  slept  at  home  in  Boston  where  I  could 
rest  more  comfortably.  I  occupied  the  adjoin- 
ing room  to  my  mother's,  and  when  I  was  ready 
for  bed  always  opened  the  door  between  the 
rooms. 

"One  night  I  woke  up  suddenly  and  heard  my 
mother  talking.  Wondering  whether  something 
was  the  matter,  I  got  out  of  bed  and  went  into 
her  room,  appearing  just  in  time  to  see  my 
mothers  arms  outstretched.  She  was  calling 
.  'Fair  catch.'     I  spoke  to  her  to  see  just  what  the 


258  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

trouble  was,  and  she,  in  a  sleepy  way,  mumbled, 
'We  won.*  She  had  been  dreaming  of  the  Har- 
vard-Dartmouth game. 

"Early  in  the  fall  of  1908  Haughton  heard  ru- 
mors that  the  Indians  were  equipping  their  back 
field  in  a  very  peculiar  fashion.  Warner  had  had 
a  piece  of  leather  the  color  and  shape  of  a  foot- 
ball sewed  on  the  jerseys  of  his  backfield  men, 
in  such  a  position  that  when  the  arm  was  folded 
as  if  carrying  the  ball,  it  would  appear  as  if  each 
of  the  backfield  players  might  have  possession  of 
the  ball,  and  therefore  disorganize  somewhat  the 
defense  against  the  man  who  was  actually  carry- 
ing the  ball.  Instead  of  one  runner  each  time, 
there  appeared  to  be  four. 

"Haughton  studied  the  rules  and  found  noth- 
ing to  prevent  Warner's  scheme.  He  wrote  a 
friendly  letter  to  Warner,  stating  that  he  did  not 
think  it  for  the  best  interest  of  the  game  to  per- 
mit his  players  to  appear  in  the  Stadium 
equipped  in  this  way,  at  the  same  time  admitting 
that  there  was  nothing  in  the  rules  against  it. 
Taking  no  chances,  however,  Haughton  worked 
out  a  scheme  of  his  own.  He  discovered  that 
there  was  no  rule  which  prevented  painting  the 
ball  red,  so  he  had  a  ball  painted  the  same  color  as 
the  crimson  jerseys.  Had  the  Indians  come  on 
the  field  with  the  leather  ruse  sewed  on  their  jer- 
seys, Haughton  would  have  insisted  that  the  game 
be  played  with  the  crimson  ball. 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     259 

"What  did  I  learn  in  my  football  course?  I 
learned  to  control  my  temper,  to  exercise  judg- 
ment, to  think  quickly  and  act  decisively.  I 
learned  the  meaning  of  discipline,  to  take  orders 
and  carry  them  out  to  the  best  of  my  ability  with- 
out asking  why.  I  had  through  the  training 
regular  habits  knocked  into  me.  I  learned  to 
meet,  know  and  size  up  men.  I  learned  to  smile 
when  I  was  the  most  discouraged  fellow  in  this 
great  wide  world,  the  importance  of  being  on 
time,  a  better  control  of  my  nerves,  and  to  de- 
mand the  respect  of  fellow  players.  I  learned  to 
work  out  problems  for  myself  and  to  apply  my 
energy  more  intelligently, — to  stick  by  the  ship. 
I  secured  a  wide  friendship  which  money  can't 
buy." 

What  Eddie  INIahan  was  to  Harvard,  Charhe 
Barrett,  Captain  of  the  victorious  1915  Eleven, 
was  to  Cornell.  The  Ithaca  Captain  was  one  of 
those  powerful  runners  whose  remarkable  phys- 
ique did  not  interfere  with  his  shiftiness.  Like 
his  Harvard  contemporary,  he  was  a  fine  leader, 
but  unlike  ^lahan,  with  whom  he  clashed  in  the 
game  with  the  Crimson  in  his  final  year,  he  was 
not  able  to  play  the  play  through  what  was  to  him 
probably  the  most  important  gridiron  battle  of 
his  career.  Nevertheless,  it  was  his  touchdown  in 
the  first  quarter  that  sounded  the  knell  of  the 
Crimson  hopes  that  day,  and  Cornell  men  will 
always  believe  that  his  presence  on  the  side  line 


260  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

wrapped  in  a  blanket,  after  his  recovery  from  the 
shock  that  put  him  out  of  the  game,  had  much  to 
do  with  inspiring  his  Eleven. 

Barrett  was  one  of  the  products  of  the  Cleve- 
land University  School,  whence  so  many  star 
players  have  been  sent  up  to  the  leading  uni- 
versities. On  the  occasion  of  his  first  appear- 
ance at  Ithaca  it  became  a  practical  certainty  that 
he  would  not  only  make  the  Varsity  Eleven,  but 
would  some  day  be  its  captain.  In  course  of  time 
it  became  a  habit  for  the  followers  of  the  Car- 
nelian  and  White  to  look  to  Barrett  for  rescue  in 
games  that  seemed  to  be  hopelessly  in  the  fire. 

In  his  senior  year  the  team  was  noted  for  its 
ability  to  come  from  behind,  and  this  team  spirit 
was  generally  understood  as  being  the  reflection 
of  that  of  their  leader.  The  Cornell  Captain 
played  the  second  and  third  periods  of  his  final 
game  against  Pennsylvania  in  a  dazed  condition, 
and  it  is  a  tribute  to  his  mental  and  physical  re- 
sources that  in  the  last  period  of  that  game  he 
played  perhaps  as  fine  football  as  he  had  ever 
shown. 

It  was  from  no  weakened  Pennsylvania 
Eleven  that  Barrett  snatched  the  victory  in  this 
his  crowded  moment.  The  Quakers  had  had  a 
disastrous  season  up  to  Thanksgiving  Day,  but 
their  pluck  and  rallying  power,  which  has  become 
a  tradition  on  Franklin  Field,  was  never  more  in 
evidence.  The  Quakers  played  with  fire,  with 
power  and  aggressiveness  that  none  save  those 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     261 

who  Imow  the  Quaker  spirit  had  been  led  to  ex- 
pect. There  were  heroes  on  the  Red  and  Blue 
team  that  day,  and  without  a  Barrett  at  his  best 
against  them,  they  would  have  won. 

It  was  up  to  Eddie  Hart  with  his  supreme  per- 
sonality and  indomitable  spirit,  which  has  always 
characterized  him  from  the  daj'-  he  entered  Exeter 
until  he  forged  his  way  to  the  leadership  of  one 
of  Princeton's  finest  elevens  to  bring  home  the 
long  deferred  championship.  When  the  final 
whistle  rang  down  the  football  curtain  for  the 
season  of  1911  it  found  Hart  in  the  ascendancy 
having  fulfilled  the  wonderful  promise  of  his  old 
Exeter  days.     For  he  had  made  good  indeed. 

Yale  and  Harvard  had  been  beaten  through  a 
remarkable  combination  of  team  and  individual 
effort  in  which  Sam  White's  alertness  and  De- 
Witt's  kicking  stood  out;  a  combination  which 
was  made  possible  only  through  Hart's  splendid 
leadership. 

At  a  banquet  for  this  championship  team  given 
by  the  Princeton  Club  of  Philadelphia,  Lou 
Reichner,  the  toastmaster,  in  introducing  Sam 
White,  the  hero  of  the  evening,  quoted  from  First 
Samuel  III,  Chapter  ii,  12th  and  1st  verses — 
"And  the  Lord  said  unto  Samuel,  behold  I  will 
do  a  thing  in  Israel,  at  which  both  the  ears  of 
every  one  that  heareth  it  shall  tingle.  In  that  day 
I  will  perform  against  EH,  all  things  which  I  have 
spoken  concerning  his  house ;  when  I  begin  I  will 
also  make  an  end.     And  The  Child  Samuel  min- 


262  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

istered  unto  the  Lord  Eli."  Mr.  Reichner  then 
presented  to  the  Child  Samuel  the  souvenir  sleeve 
links  and  a  silver  box  containing  the  genuine  soil 
from  Yale  Field. 

After  Sam  had  been  sufficiently  honored,  Al- 
fred T.  Baker,  Princeton  '85,  a  former  Varsity 
football  player,  and  his  son  Hobey  Baker,  who 
played  on  Eddie  Hart's  team,  were  called  before 
the  toastmaster.  There  was  a  triple  cheer  for 
Hobey  and  his  father.  Beichner  said  that  he  had 
nothing  for  Papa  Baker,  but  a  souvenir  for  Ho- 
bey, and  if  the  father  was  man  enough  to  take  it 
away  from  him  he  could  have  it. 

In  speaking  of  the  Yale-Princeton  game  at 
"New  Haven,  some  of  the  things  incidental  to 
victory  were  told  that  evening  by  Sam  White, 
who  said: 

"In  the  Yale  game  of  1911,  Joe  Duff,  the 
Princeton  guard,  came  over  to  Hart,  Captain  of 
the  Princeton  team,  and  said: 

"  'Ed,  I  can't  play  any  more.  I  can't  stand 
on  my  left  leg.' 

"  'That's  all  right,'  answered  Hart,  *  go  back 
and  play  on  your  right  one.' 

"Joe  did  and  that  year  he  made  the  All- Ameri- 
can guard. 

"It  was  less  than  a  week  before  the  Harvard- 
Princeton  game  at  Princeton,  1911,  a  friend  of 
mine  wrote  down  and  asked  me  to  get  him  four 
good  seats,  and  said  if  I'd  mention  my  favorite 
cigar,  he'd  send  me  a  box  in  appreciation.     I  got 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     263 

the  seats  for  him,  but  it  was  more  or  less  of  a 
struggle,  but  in  writing  on  did  not  mention  ci- 
gars. He  sent  me  a  check  to  cover  the  cost  of 
the  tickets  and  in  the  letter  enclosed  a  small  scarf 
pin  which  he  said  was  sure  to  bring  me  luck.  He 
had  done  quite  a  little  running  in  his  time  and 
said  it  had  never  failed  him  and  urged  me  to  be 
sure  and  put  it  in  my  tie  the  day  of  the  Harvard- 
Princeton  game.  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  I 
did  stick  it  in  my  tie  when  I  dressed  that  Satur- 
day morning  and  it  surely  had  a  charm.  It  was 
in  the  first  half  that  I  got  away  for  my  run,  and 
as  we  came  out  of  the  field  house  at  the  start  of 
the  second  half,  whom  should  I  see  but  my  friend, 
yelling  like  a  madman — 

"  'Did  you  wear  it?     Did  you  wear  it?' 

*'I  assured  him  I  did,  and  it  seemed  to  quiet 
and  please  him,  for  he  merely  grinned  and  re- 
plied : 

"'I  told  you!     I  told  you!' 

"After  the  game  I  said  nothing  of  the  episode, 
but  did  secretly  decide  to  keep  the  pin  safely 
locked  up  until  the  day  of  the  Yale-Princeton 
game.  I  again  stuck  it  in  my  tie  that  morning 
and  the  charm  still  held,  and  I  am  still  wonder- 
ing to  this  daj^  if  it  doesn't  pay  to  be  a  little 
bit  superstitious." 

Every  Harvard  man  remembers  vividly  the 
great  Crimson  triumph  of  1915  over  Yale.  It 
\vill  never  be  forgotten.  During  the  game  I  sat 
on  the  Harvard  side  lines  with  Doctor  Billy 


264  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Brooks,  a  former  Harvard  captain.  He  was  not 
satisfied  when  Harvard  had  Yale  beaten  by  the 
score  of  41  to  0,  but  was  enthusiastically  urging 
Harvard  on  to  at  least  one  or  two  more  touch- 
downs, so  that  the  defeat  which  Yale  meted  out 
to  Harvard  in  1884,  a  game  in  which  he  was  a 
player,  would  be  avenged  by  a  larger  score,  but 
alas!  he  had  to  be  satisfied  with  the  tally  as  it 
stood. 

A  story  is  told  of  the  enthusiasm  of  Evert  Jan- 
sen  Wendell,  as  he  stood  on  the  side  lines  of  this 
same  game  and  saw  the  big  Crimson  roller  crush- 
ing Yale  down  to  overwhelming  defeat.  This  en- 
thusiastic Harvard  graduate  cried  out: 

"  'We  must  score  again!' 

Another  Harvard  sympathiser,  standing 
nearby,  said: 

"  'Mr.  Wendell,  don't  you  think  we  have  beaten 
them  badly  enough?     What  more  do  you  want?' 

"  'Oh,  I  want  to  see  them  suffer,'  retorted 
Wendell." 

After  this  game  was  over  and  the  crowd  was 
surging  out  of  the  stadium  that  afternoon  I  heard 
an  energetic  newsboy,  who  was  selling  the  Har- 
vard  La7npoon,  crying  out  at  the  top  of  his  voice : 

"  '^Harvard  Lampoon  for  sale  here.  All  about 
the  New  Haven  wreck.'  " 

Eddie  Mahan 

There  is  no  question  that  the  American  game 
of  football  will  go  on  for  years  to  come.     If  the 


•BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     265 

future  football  generals  develop  a  better  all- 
around  man  than  Eddie  Mahan,  captain  of  the 
great  Harvard  team  of  1915,  whose  playing 
brought  not  only  victory  to  Harvard  but  was  ac- 
companied by  great  admiration  throughout  the 
football  world,  they  may  well  congratulate  them- 
selves. From  this  peerless  leader,  whose  playing 
was  an  inspiration  to  the  men  on  his  team,  let  us 
put  on  record,  so  that  future  heroes  may  also 
draw  like  inspiration  from  them,  some  of  Ma- 
han's  own  recollections  of  his  playing  daj^s. 

"I  think  the  greatest  game  I  ever  played  in 
was  the  Princeton  game  in  1915,  because  we 
never  knew  until  the  last  minute  that  we  had  won 
the  game,"  says  the  Crimson  star.  "There  was 
always  a  chance  of  Princeton's  beating  us.  The 
score  was  10  to  6.  I  worked  harder  in  that  game 
than  in  any  game  I  ever  played. 

"Frank  Click's  defensive  work  was  nothing 
short  of  marv^elous.  He  is  the  football  player  I 
respect.  He  hit  me  so  hard.  The  way  I  ran,  it 
was  seldom  that  anybody  got  a  crack  at  me.  I 
would  see  a  clear  space  and  the  first  thing  I  knew 
Glick  would  come  from  behind  somewhere,  or 
somebody,  and  would  hit  me  when  I  least  ex- 
pected it,  and  he  usually  hit  me  good  and  hard. 
It  seemed  sometimes  that  he  came  right  out  of  the 
ground.  I  tell  you  after  he  hit  me  a  few  times 
he  was  the  only  man  I  was  looking  for;  I  did  not 
care  much  about  the  rest  of  the  team. 

"One  of  the  things  that  helped  me  most  in  my 


266  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

backfield  play  was  Pooch  Donovan's  coaching. 
He  practiced  me  in  sprints,  my  whole  freshman 
year.  He  took  a  great  interest  in  me.  He 
speeded  me  up.  I  owe  a  great  debt  of  grati- 
tude to  Pooch.  I  could  always  kick  before  I 
went  to  Harvard,  back  in  the  old  Andover  days. 
I  learned  to  kick  by  punting  the  ball  all  the  after- 
noon, instead  of  playing  football  all  the  time. 
I  think  that  is  the  way  men  should  learn  to  kick. 
The  more  I  kicked,  the  better  I  seemed  to  get." 

Among  the  many  trophies  Eddie  Mahan  has 
received,  he  prizes  as  much  as  any  the  watch  pre- 
sented to  him  by  the  townspeople  of  Natick,  his 
home  town,  his  last  year  at  Andover,  after  the 
football  season  closed.  He  was  attending  a  foot- 
ball game  at  Natick  between  Natick  High  and 
Milton  High. 

*'It  was  all  a  surprise  to  me,"  says  Eddie. 
"They  called  me  out  on  the  field  and  presented 
me  with  this  watch  which  is  very  handsomely 
inscribed. 

"Well  do  I  recall  those  wonderful  days  at 
Andover  and  the  games  between  Andover  and 
'Exeter.  There  is  intense  rivalry  between  these 
two  schools.  Many  are  the  traditions  at  An- 
dover, and  some  of  the  men  who  had  preceded 
me,  and  some  with  whom  I  played  were  Jack 
Curtis,  Ralph  Bloomer,  Frank  Hinkey,  Doc  Hil- 
lebrand  and  Jim  Rodgers.  Then  there  was 
Trevor  Hogg,  who  was  captain  of  the  Princeton 
1916  team,   Shelton,   Red  Braun,   Bob  Jones. 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     267 

TKe  older  crowd  of  football  men  made  the  game 
what  it  is  at  Andover.  Lately  they  have  had  a 
much  younger  crowd.  When  I  was  at  Andover, 
Johnny  Kilpatrick,  Hemy  Hobbs,  Ham  An- 
drews, Bob  Foster  and  Bob  McKay  had  already 
left  there  and  gone  to  college. 

"It  has  been  a  great  privilege  for  me  to  have 
played  on  different  teams  that  have  had  strong 
players.  I  cannot  say  too  much  about  Hard- 
wick,  Bradlee,  and  Trumbull.  Brickley  was  one 
of  the  hardest  men  for  our  opponents  to  bring 
down  when  he  got  the  ball.  He  was  a  phe- 
nomenal kicker.  I  had  also  a  lot  of  respect  for 
ISIal  Logan,  who  played  quarterback  on  my  team 
in  1915.  He  weighed  less  than  150  pounds. 
He  used  to  get  into  the  interference  in  grand 
shape.  He  counted  for  something.  He  was  a 
tough  kid.  He  could  stand  all  sorts  of  knocks 
and  he  used  to  get  them  too.  When  I  was  kick- 
ing he  warded  off  the  big  tackles  as  they  came 
through.  He  was  always  there  and  nobodj'' 
could  ever  block  a  kick  from  his  side.  The 
harder  they  hit  him,  the  stronger  he  came  back 
every  time." 

When  I  asked  JNIahan  about  fun  in  football  he 
said: 

"We  didn't  seem  to  do  much  kidding.  There 
was  a  sort  of  serious  spirit;  Haughton  had  such 
an  influence  over  everybody,  they  were  afraid  to 
laugh  before  practice,  while  waiting  for  Haugh- 
ton, and  after  practice  ever3'body  was  usually  so 


268  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

tired  there  was  not  much  foohng  in  the  dressing 
room;  but  we  got  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  the  game." 

Of  Haughton's  coaching  methods  and  the  Har- 
vard system  Eddie  has  a  few  things  to  tell  us  that 
will  be  news  to  many  football  men. 

*'Haughton  coaches  a  great  deal  by  the  use  of 
photographs  which  are  taken  of  us  in  practice  as 
well  as  regular  games.  He  would  get  us  all  to- 
gether and  coach  from  the  pictures — point  out 
the  poor  work.  Seldom  were  the  good  points 
shown.  Nevertheless,  he  always  gave  credit  to 
the  man  who  got  his  opponent  in  the  interfer- 
ence.    Haughton  used  to  say: 

"  *Any  one  can  carry  a  ball  through  a  bunch 
of  dead  men.' 

"Haughton  is  a  good  organizer.  He  has  been 
the  moving  spirit  at  Cambridge  but  by  no  means 
the  whole  Harvard  coaching  staff.  The  indi- 
vidual coaches  work  with  him  and  with  each 
other.  Each  one  has  control  or  supreme  author- 
ity over  his  own  department.  The  backfield 
coach  has  the  picking  of  men  for  their  positions. 
Harvard  follows  Charhe  Daly's  backfield  play; 
improved  upon  somewhat,  of  course,  according 
y  to  conditions.  Each  coach  is  considered  an  ex- 
pert in  his  own  line.  No  coach  is  considered  an 
expert  in  all  fields.  This  is  the  method  at 
Harvard. 

"Outside  of  Haughton,  Bill  Withington,  Reg- 
gie Brown,  and  Leo  Leary  have  been  the  most 
recent  prominent  coaches.     The  Harvard  gen- 


ijjjjy^' 


■<^' 


^ 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     269 

eralship  has  been  the  old  Charlie  Daly  system. 
Reggie  Brown  has  been  a  great  strategist.  Har- 
vard line  play  came  from  Pot  Graves  of  West 
Point." 

George  Chadwick 

What  George  Chadwick,  captain  of  Yale's 
winning  team  of  1902,  gave  of  himself  to  Yale 
football  has  amply  earned  the  thoroughly  re- 
markable tributes  constantly  paid  to  this  great 
Yale  player.  He  was  a  most  deceptive  man  with 
the  ball.  In  the  Princeton  game  John  DeWitt 
was  the  dangerous  man  on  the  Princeton  team, 
feared  most  on  account  of  his  great  kicking 
ability. 

DeWitt  has  always  contended  that  Chadwick's 
team  was  the  best  Yale  team  he  ever  saw.  He 
says:  "It  was  a  better  team  than  Gordon  Brown's 
for  the  reason  that  they  had  a  kicker  and  Gor- 
don Brown's  team  did  not  have  a  kicker.  But 
this  is  only  my  opinion." 

Yale  and  Princeton  men  will  not  forget 
in  a  hurry  the  two  wonderful  runs  for  touch- 
downs, one  from  about  the  center  of  the  field, 
that  Chadwick  made  in  1902. 

"I  note,"  writes  Chadwick,  "that  there  is  a  gen- 
eral impression  that  the  opening  in  the  line 
through  which  I  w^nt  was  large  enough  to  ac- 
commodate an  express  train.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  the  opening  was  hardly  large  enough  for 
me  to  squeeze  through.  Tlie  play  w^as  not  to 
make  a  large  opening,  and  I  certainly  remember 


270  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  sensation  of  being  squeezed  when  going 
through  the  hne. 

"There  were  some  amusing  incidents  in  con- 
nection with  that  particular  game  that  come  back 
to  me  now.  I  remember  that  when  going  down 
on  the  train  from  New  York  to  Princeton,  I  was 
very  much  amused  at  Mike  Murphy's  efforts  to 
get  Tom  Shevlin  worked  up  so  he  would  play  an 
extra  good  game.  Mike  kept  telling  Tom  what 
a  good  man  Davis  was  and  how  the  latter  was 
going  to  put  it  all  over  him.  Tom  clenched  his 
fists,  put  on  a  silly  grin  and  almost  wept.  It 
really  did  me  a  lot  of  good,  as  it  helped  to  keep 
my  mind  off  the  game.  When  it  did  come  to 
the  game,  his  first  big  game,  Shevlin  certainly 
plaj^ed  wonderful  football. 

"I  had  been  ill  for  about  a  week  and  a  half 
before  this  game  and  really  had  not  played  in 
practice  for  two  or  three  weeks.  Mike  was 
rather  afraid  of  my  condition,  so  he  told  me  to  be 
the  last  man  always  to  get  up  before  the  ball 
was  put  in  play.  I  carefully  followed  his  ad- 
vice and  as  a  result  a  lot  of  my  friends  in  the 
stand  kept  thinking  that  I  had  been  hurt. 

"Toward  the  end  of  the  game  we  were  down 
about  on  Princeton's  40-yard  line.  It  was  the 
third  down  and  the  probabilities  were  that  we 
would  not  gain  the  distance,  so  I  decided  to  have 
Bowman  try  for  a  drop-kick.  I  happened  to 
glance  over  at  the  side  line  and  there  was  old 
Mike  Murphy  making  strenuous  motions  with 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     271 

his  foot.  The  umpire,  Dashiell,  saw  him  too,  and 
put  him  off  the  side  hnes  for  signalhng.  I  re- 
member being  extremely  angry  at  the  time  be- 
cause I  was  not  looking  at  the  side  lines  for  any 
signals  and  had  decided  on  a  drop  kick  anyhow. 
"In  my  day  it  was  still  the  policy  to  work 
the  men  to  death,  to  drill  them  to  endure 
long  hours  of  practice  scrimmage.  About  two 
weeks  before  the  Princeton  game  in  my  senior 
year,  we  were  in  a  slump.  We  had  a  long,  mis- 
erable Monday's  practice.  A  lot  of  the  old 
coaches  insisted  that  football  must  be  knocked 
into  the  men  by  hard  work,  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  men  knew  a  lot  of  football.  They  were 
fundamentally  good  and  what  they  really  needed 
was  condition  to  enable  them  to  show  their  foot- 
ball knowledge.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I 
was  influenced  greatly  in  this  by  Mike  Murphy 
and  his  knowledge  of  men  and  conditioning  them. 
Joe  Swann,  the  field  coach,  and  Walter  Camp 
were  in  accord,  so  we  turned  down  the  advice  of 
a  lot  of  the  older  coaches  and  gave  the  Varsity 
only  about  five  minutes'  scrimmage  during  the 
week  and  a  half  preceding  the  Princeton  game, 
with  the  exception  of  the  Bucknell  game  the 
Saturday  before.  During  the  week  before  the 
Princeton  and  Harvard  games  we  went  up  to 
Ardsley  and  had  no  practice  for  three  days. 
iThere  was  a  five-minutes'  scrimmage  on  Thurs- 
day. This  was  an  unusual  proceeding,  but  it  was 
so  intensely  hot  the  day  of  the  Princeton  game, 


272  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

and  we  all  lost  so  much  weight  something  unusual 
had  to  be  done.  The  team  played  well  in  the 
Princeton  game,  but  it  was  simply  a  coming  team 
then.  In  the  Harvard  game,  which  we  won  23 
to  0,  it  seemed  to  me  that  we  were  at  the  top  of 
our  form. 

"I  think  the  whole  incident  was  a  lesson  to 
us  at  New  Haven  of  the  great  value  of  condi- 
tion to  men  who  know  a  great  deal  of  football. 
I  know  from  my  own  experience  during  the  three 
preceding  years  that  it  had  been  too  little  thought 
of.  The  great  cry  had  too  often  been  'We  must 
drum  football  into  them,  no  matter  what  their 
physical  condition.' 

"After  the  terribly  exhausting  game  at  Prince- 
ton, which  we  won,  12  to  5,  DeWitt  Cochrane 
invited  the  team  to  go  to  his  place  at  Ardsley  and 
recuperate.  It  really  was  our  salvation,  and  I 
have  always  been  most  grateful  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Cochrane  for  so  generously  giving  up  their 
house  completely  to  a  mob  of  youngsters.  We 
spent  three  delightful  days,  almost  forgot  foot- 
ball entirely,  ate  ravenously  and  slept  like  tops. 

"Big  Eddie  Glass  was  a  wonderful  help  in  in- 
terference. I  used  to  play  left  half  and  Eddie 
left  guard.  On  plays  where  I  would  take  the 
ball  around  the  end,  or  skirting  tackle,  Eddie 
would  either  run  in  the  interference  or  break 
through  the  line  and  meet  me  some  yards  beyond. 
We  had  a  great  pulling  and  hauling  team  that 
year,  and  the  greatest  puller  and  hauler  was 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     273 

Eddie  Glass.  Perry  Hale,  who  played  fullback 
my  sophomore  year,  was  a  great  interferer.  He 
was  big,  and  strong  and  fast.  On  a  straight  buck 
through  tackle,  when  he  would  be  behind  me,  if 
there  was  not  a  hole  in  the  proper  place,  he  would 
whirl  me  all  the  way  round  and  shoot  me  through 
a  hole  somewhere  else.  It  would,  of  course,  act 
as  an  impromptu  delayed  play.  In  one  game  I 
remember  making  a  forty  yard  run  to  a  touch- 
down on  such  a  manoeuver." 

Arthur  Poe 

There  never  was  as  much  real  football  ability 
concealed  in  a  small  package  as  there  was  in  that 
great  player,  Arthur  Poe.  He  was  always  using 
his  head,  following  the  ball,  strong  in  emergency. 
He  was  endowed  with  a  wonderful  personality, 
and  a  man  who  always  got  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  the 
game  and  made  fun  for  others,  but  yet  was  on  the 
job  every  minute.  He  always  inspired  his  team 
mates  to  play  a  little  harder.  Rather  than  write 
anything  more  about  this  great  player,  let  us 
read  with  him  the  part  he  so  abl}^  played  in  some 
of  Princeton's  football  games. 

"The  story  of  my  run  in  1898  is  very  simple. 
Yale  tried  a  mass  play  on  Doc  Hillebrand, 
which,  as  usual,  was  very  unsuccessful  in  that 
quarter.  He  broke  through  and  tackled  the 
man  with  the  ball.  While  the  Yale  men  were 
trying  to  ^push  him  forward,  I  grabbed  the  ball 
from  his  arms  and  had  a  clear  field  and  about  ten 


274  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

yards  start  for  the  goal  line.  I  don't  believe  I 
was  ever  hapj)ier  in  my  life  than  on  this  day 
when  I  made  the  Princeton  team  and  scored  this 
touchdown  against  Yale. 

"In  the  second  half  McBride  tried  a  center 
drive  on  Booth  and  Edwards.  The  line  held  and 
I  rushed  in,  and  grabbed  the  ball,  but  before  I 
got  very  far  the  Referee  blew  his  whistle,  and 
after  I  had  run  across  the  goal  line  I  realized  that 
the  touchdown  was  not  going  to  be  allowed. 

"Lew  Palmer  and  I  were  tried  at  end  simply 
to  endeavor  to  provide  a  defense  against  the  re- 
turn runs  of  de  SauUes  on  punts.  He,  by  the 
way,  was  the  greatest  open  field  runner  I  have 
ever  seen. 

"My  senior  year  started  auspiciously  and  the 
prospects  for  a  victorious  eleven  appeared  espe- 
cially bright,  as  only  two  of  the  regular  players 
of  the  year  before  had  graduated.  The  first  hard 
game  was  against  Columbia,  coached  by  Foster 
Sanford,  who  had  a  wealth  of  material  drawn 
from  the  four  corners  of  the  earth.  In  the  latter 
part  of  the  game  my  opponent  by  way  of  showing 
his  disapproval  of  my  features  attempted  to 
change  them,  but  was  immediately  assisted  to  the 
ground  by  my  running  mate  and  was  undergoing 
an  unpleasant  few  moments,  when  Sanford,  re- 
inforced by  several  dozen  substitutes,  ran  to  his 
rescue  and  bestowed  some  unkind  compliments 
on  different  parts  of  my  pal's  anatomy.  With 
the  arrival  of  Burr  Mcintosh  and  several  old 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON    275 

grads,  however,  we  were  released  from  their 
clutches,  and  the  game  proceeded. 

"After  the  Cornell  game  the  Yale  game  was 
close  at  hand.  We  were  confident  of  our  ability 
to  win,  though  we  expected  a  bitter  hard  struggle, 
in  which  we  were  not  disappointed.  Through  a 
well  developed  interference  on  an  end  run, 
Reiter  was  sent  around  the  end  for  several  long 
gains,  resulting  in  a  touchdown,  but  Yale  re- 
taliated by  blocking  a  kick  and  falling  on  the 
ball  for  a  touchdown.  Sharpe,  a  few  minutes 
later,  kicked  a  beautiful  goal,  so  that  the  score 
was  10  to  6  in  Yale's  favor.  The  wind  was  blow- 
ing a  gale  all  through  the  first  half  and  as  Yale 
had  the  wind  at  their  backs  we  were  forced  to 
play  a  rushing  game,  but  shortly  after  the  second 
half  began  the  wind  died  down  considerably  so 
that  McBride's  long,  low  kicks  were  not  effective 
to  any  great  extent. 

"Yale  was  on  the  defensive  and  we  were  unable 
to  break  through  for  the  coveted  touchdown, 
though  we  were  able  to  gain  ground  consistently 
for  long  advances.  In  the  shadow  of  their  goal 
line  Yale  held  us  mainly  through  the  wonderful 
defensive  playing  of  JNIcBride.  I  never  saw  a 
finer  display  of  backing  up  the  rush  line  than  that 
of  McBride  during  the  second  half.  So  stren- 
uous was  the  play  that  eight  substitutions  had 
been  made  on  our  team,  but  with  less  than  five 
minutes  to  play  we  started  a  furious  drive  for  the 
goal  line  from  the  middle  of  the  field,  and  with 


276  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

McClave,  Mattis  and  Lathrope  canying  the  ball 
we  went  to  Yale's  25-yard  line  in  quick  time. 

"With  only  about  a  minute  to  play  it  was  de- 
cided to  try  a  goal  from  the  field.  I  was  selected 
as  the  one  to  make  the  attempt.  I  was  standing 
on  the  34-yard  line,  about  ten  yards  to  the  left  of 
centre  when  I  kicked;  the  ball  started  straight 
for  the  far  goal  post,  but  apparently  was  de- 
flected by  air  currents  and  curved  in  not  more 
than  a  yard  from  the  post.  I  turned  to  the  Ref- 
eree, saw  his  arms  raised  and  heard  him  say 
'Goal'  and  then  everything  broke  loose. 

"I  saw  members  of  the  team  turning  somer- 
saults, and  all  I  remember  after  that  was  being 
seized  by  a  crowd  of  alumni  who  rushed  out  upon 
the  field,  and  hearing  my  brother  Ned  shout, 
'You  damned  lucky  kid,  you  have  licked  them 
again.'  I  locked  the  ball  with  my  instep,  hav- 
ing learned  this  from  Charlie  Young  of  Cornell, 
who  was  then  at  Princeton  Seminary  and  was 
playing  on  the  scrub  team.  The  reason  I  did  this 
was  because  Lew  Palmer  and  myself  wore  light 
running  shoes  with  light  toes,  not  kicking  shoes 
at  all. 

"After  the  crowd  had  been  cleared  off  the  field 
there  were  only  29  seconds  left  to  play,  and  after 
Yale  had  kicked  off  we  held  the  ball  without  risk- 
ing a  play  until  the  whistle  blew,  when  I  started 
full  speed  for  the  gate,  followed  by  Bert 
Wheeler.  I  recall  knocking  down  several  men 
as  we  were  bursting  through  and  making  our 


•^'OTlliXLi   (JUT  i)V  JUii^'  DtWiil' 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON    277 

way  to  the  bus.  It  was  the  first,  last  and  only 
goal  from  the  field  I  ever  attempted,  and  the 
most  plausible  explanation  for  its  success  was 
probably  predestination." 

Arthur  Poe  was  a  big  factor  in  football,  even 
when  he  wasn't  running  or  kicking  Yale  down  to 
defeat. 

"Bill  Church's  roughness,  in  my  freshman 
year,  had  the  scrub  blufiPed,"  continues  Arthur. 
"Wlien  Lew  Palmer  volunteered  to  play  half- 
back and  take  care  of  Bill  on  punts,  Bill  was  sur- 
prised on  the  first  kick  he  attempted  to  block  to 
feel  Lew's  fist  on  his  jaw  and  immediately 
shouted : 

"  'I  like  you  for  that,  you  damn  freshman.' 

"That  was  the  first  accident  that  attracted 
attention  to  Lew.  Palmer  was  one  of  the  gamest 
men  and  he  won  a  Varsity  place  by  the  hardest 
kind  of  work. 

"Well  do  I  recall  the  indignation  meeting  of 
the  scrub  to  talk  over  plans  of  curbing  Johnny 
Baird  and  Fred  Smith  in  their  endeavor  to  kill 
the  scrub." 

John  Dewitt 

Big  John  DeWitt  was  the  man  who  brought 
home  the  Yale  bacon  for  the  Tigers  in  1903. 
To  be  exact  he  not  only  carried,  but  also  kicked 
it  home.  Two  surprise  parties  by  a  single  player 
in  so  hard  a  game  are  rare  indeed.  Whenever 
I  think  of  DeWitt  I  think  of  his  great  power  of 
leadership.     He    was    an    ideal    captain.     He 


278  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

thought  things  out  for  himself.  He  was  tHe 
spirit  of  his  team. 

This  great  Princeton  captain  was  one  of  the 
most  versatile  football  men  known  to  fame. 
Playing  so  remarkably  in  the  guard  position,  he 
also  did  the  kicking  for  his  team  and  was  a  great 
power  in  running  with  the  ball. 

DeWitt  thought  things  out  almost  instantly 
and  took  advantage  of  every  possible  point. 
The  picture  on  the  opposite  page  illustrates  won- 
derfully well  how  he  exerted  and  extended  him- 
self. This  man  put  his  whole  soul  into  his  work 
and  was  never  found  wanting.  His  achieve- 
ments will  hold  a  conspicuous  place  in  football 
history.     Nothing  got  by  John  DeWitt. 

De Witt's  team  in  1903  was  the  first  to  bring 
victory  over  Yale  to  Princeton  since  1899.  On 
that  day  John  DeWitt  scored  a  touchdown  and 
kicked  a  placement  goal,  which  will  long  be  re- 
membered. Let  us  go  back  and  play  a  part  of 
that  game  over  with  John  himself. 

"Whenever  I  think  of  football  my  recollec- 
tions go  back  to  the  Yale  game  of  1903,"  says 
DeWitt.  *'My  most  vivid  recollections  are  of 
my  loyal  team  mates  whose  wonderful  spirit  and 
good  fellowship  meant  so  much  to  the  success  of 
that  Eleven.  Without  their  combined  effort 
Princeton  could  not  have  won  that  day. 

"We  had  a  fine  optimistic  spirit  before  the  game 
and  the  fact  that  Jim  Hogan  scored  a  touch- 
down for  Yale  in  the  first  part  of  the  game 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     279 

seemed  to  put  us  on  our  mettle  and  we  came 
back  with  the  spirit  that  I  have  always  been 
proud  of.  Hogan  was  almost  irresistible.  You 
could  hardly  stop  him  when  he  had  the  ball.  He 
scored  between  Harold  Short  and  myself  and 
jammed  through  for  about  12  yards  to  a  touch- 
down. If  you  tackled  Jim  Hogan  head  on  he 
would  pull  you  right  over  backwards.  He  was 
the  strongest  tackle  I  ever  saw.  He  seemed  to 
have  overpowering  strength  in  his  legs.  He  was 
a  regular  player.  He  never  gave  up  until  the 
whistle  blew,  but  after  the  Princeton  team  got 
its  scoring  machine  at  work,  the  Princeton  line 
outplayed  the  Yale  hne. 

"I  think  Yale  had  as  good  a  team  as  we  had,  if 
not  better,  that  day.  The  personnel  of  the  team 
was  far  superior  to  ours,  but  we  had  our  spirit  in 
the  game.  We  were  going  through  Yale  to 
beat  the  band  the  last  part  of  the  game." 

DeWitt,  describing  the  run  that  made  him 
famous,  says: 

"Towards  the  end  of  the  first  half,  with  the 
score  6  to  0  against  Princeton,  Yale  was  rushing 
us  down  the  field.  Roraback,  the  Yale  center, 
was  not  able  to  pass  the  ball  the  full  distance 
back  for  the  punter.  Rockwell  took  the  ball 
from  quarterback  position  and  passed  it  to 
Mitchell,  the  fullback.  On  this  particular  play 
our  whole  line  went  through  on  the  Yale  kick 
formation.  No  written  account  that  I  have  ever 
seen  has  accurately  described  just  what  hap- 


280  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

pened.  Ralph  Davis  was  the  first  man  through, 
and  he  blocked  Mitchell's  kick.  Ridge  Hart, 
who  was  coming  along  behind  him,  kicked  the 
loose  ball  forward  and  the  oval  was  about  fifteen 
to  twenty  yards  from  where  it  started.  I  was 
coming  through  all  the  time. 

"As  the  bouncing  ball  went  behind  Mitchell  it 
bobbed  up  right  in  front  of  me.  I  probably 
broke  all  rules  of  football  by  picking  it  up,  but 
the  chances  looked  good  and  I  took  advantage  of 
them.  I  really  was  wondering  then  whether  to 
pick  it  up  or  fall  on  it,  but  figured  that  it  was 
harder  to  fall  on  it  than  to  pick  it  up,  so  I  put  on 
all  the  steam  I  had  and  started  for  the  goal. 
Howard  Henry  was  right  behind  me  until  I  got 
near  the  goal  post.  After  I  had  kicked  the  goal 
the  score  was  6  to  6.  Never  can  I  forget  the 
fierce  playing  on  the  part  of  both  teams  that 
now  took  place. 

"Shortly  after  this  in  the  second  half  I  punted 
down  into  Yale's  territory.  Mitchell  fumbled 
and  Ralph  Davis  fell  on  the  ball  on  the  30-yard 
line.  We  tried  to  gain,  but  could  not.  Bowman 
fell  on  the  ball  after  the  ensuing  kick,  which  was 
blocked.  It  had  rolled  to  the  5-yard  line.  Yale 
tried  to  gain  once;  then  Bowman  went  back  to 
kick.  I  can  never  pay  enough  tribute  to  Vet- 
terlein,  to  the  rare  judgment  that  he  displayed 
at  this  point  in  the  game.  When  he  caught  that 
punt  and  heeled  it,  he  used  fine  judgment;  but 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     281 

for  his  good  head  work  we  never  would  have  won 
that  game.  I  kicked  my  goal  from  the  field  from 
the  43-yard  line. 

"As  Ralph  Davis  was  holding  the  ball  before 
I  kicked  it,  the  Yale  players,  who  were  standing 
ten  yards  away  were  not  trying  to  make  it  any 
the  easier  for  us.  I  remember  in  particular  Tom 
Shevlin  was  kidding  Ralph  Davis,  who  rephed: 
*Well,  Tom,  you  might  as  well  give  it  to  us  now — 
the  score  is  going  to  be  11-6,'  and  just  then 
what  Davis  had  said  came  through. 

"If  any  one  thinks  that  my  entire  football  ex- 
perience was  a  bed  of  roses,  I  want  to  assure  him 
that  it  was  not.  I  experienced  the  sadness  of 
injury  and  of  not  making  the  team.  The  first 
day  I  lined  up  I  broke  three  bones  in  one  hand. 
Three  weeks  later,  after  they  had  healed  I  broke 
the  bones  in  my  other  hand  and  so  patiently 
waited  until  the  following  year  to  make  the  team. 

"The  next  year  I  went  through  the  bitter  ex- 
perience of  defeat,  and  we  were  beaten  good  and 
plenty  by  Yale.  Defeat  came  agam  in  1902. 
It  was  in  that  year  that  I  met,  as  my  opponent, 
the  hardest  man  I  ever  played  against,  Eddie 
Glass.  The  Yale  team  came  at  me  pretty  hard 
the  first  fifteen  minutes.  Glass  especially 
crashed  into  me.  He  was  warned  three  times  by 
Dashiell  in  the  opening  part  of  the  game  for 
strenuous  work.  Glass  was  a  rough,  hard 
player,  but  he  was  not  an  unfair  player  at  that. 


282  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

I  always  liked  good,  rough  football.  He  played 
the  game  for  all  it  was  worth  and  was  a  Gibraltar 
to  the  Yale  team. 

"Now  that  my  playing  days  are  over,  I  think 
there  is  one  thing  that  young  fellows  never  real- 
ize until  they  are  through  playing;  that  they 
might  have  helped  more;  that  they  might  have 
given  a  few  extra  minutes  to  perfect  a  play. 
The  thing  that  has  always  appealed  to  me  most 
in  football  is  to  think  of  what  might  have  been 
done  by  a  little  extra  effort.  It  is  very  seldom 
you  see  a  man  come  off  the  field  absolutely  used 
up.  I  have  never  seen  but  one  or  two  cases 
where  a  man  had  to  be  helped  to  the  dressing 
room.  I  have  always  thought  such  a  man  did 
not  give  as  much  as  he  should, — we're  all  guilty 
of  this  offense.  A  little  extra  punch  might  have 
made  a  touchdown.'* 

Tichenor,  of  the  University  of  Georgia,  tells 
the  following: 

"In  a  Tech-Georgia  game  a  peculiar  thing 
happened.  One  of  the  goal  lines  was  about  seven 
yards  from  the  fence  which  was  twelve  feet  high 
and  perfectly  smooth.  Tech  had  worked  the 
ball  down  to  within  about  three  yards  of  Geor- 
gia's goal  near  the  fence.  Here  the  defense  of 
the  Red  and  Black  stiffened  and,  taking  the  ball 
on  downs,  Ted  Sullivan  immediately  dropped 
back  for  a  kick.  The  pass  was  none  too  good 
and  he  swung  his  foot  into  the  ball,  which  struck 


[BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON     283 

the  cross  bar,  bounded  high  up  in  the  air,  over  the 
fence,  behind  the  goal  post. 

"Then  began  the  mighty  wall-scahng  strug- 
gle to  get  over  the  fence  and  secure  the  coveted 
ball.  As  fast  as  one  team  would  try  to  boost 
each  other  over,  their  opponents  would  pull  them 
down.  This  contest  continued  for  fully  five  min- 
utes while  the  crowd  roared  with  delight.  In 
the  meantime  George  Butler,  the  Referee,  took 
advantage  of  the  situation  and,  with  the  assist- 
ance of  several  spectators,  was  boosted  over  the 
fence  where  he  waited  for  some  player  to  come 
and  fall  on  the  ball,  which  was  fairly  hidden  in  a 
ditch  covered  over  with  branches.  Butler  tells 
to  this  day  of  the  amusing  sight  as  he  beheld  first 
one  pair  of  hands  grasping  the  top  of  the  fence ; 
one  hand  would  loosen,  then  the  other;  then  an- 
other set  of  hands  would  appear.  Heads  were 
bobbing  up  and  down  and  disappearing  one  after 
the  other.  The  crowd  now  became  interested 
and  showed  their  partiality,  and  with  the  assist- 
ance of  some  of  the  spectators  a  Tech  player 
made  his  way  over  the  fence  and  began  his  search 
for  the  ball,  closely  followed  by  a  Georgia  player. 
They  rushed  around  frantically  looking  for  the 
ball.  Then  Red  Wilson  joined  in  the  search  and 
quickly  located  it  in  the  ditch ;  soon  had  it  safely 
in  his  arms  and  Tech  scored  a  touchdown. 

"This  was  probably  the  only  touchdown  play 
in  the  history  of  the  game  which  none  of  the 


284  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

spectators  saw  and  which  only  the  Referee  and 
two  other  players  saw  at  the  time  the  player 
touched  the  ball  down." 

That  Charlie  Brickley  was  in  the  way  of 
bringing  home  the  bacon  to  Harvard  is  well 
known  to  all.  There  have  been  very  few  play- 
ers who  were  as  reliable  as  this  star.  It  was  in 
his  senior  year  that  he  was  captain  of  the 
team  and  when  the  announcement  came  at  the 
start  of  the  football  season  that  Brickley  had 
been  operated  upon  for  appendicitis  the  football 
world  extended  to  him  its  deepest  sympathy. 
During  his  illness  he  yearned  to  get  out  in  time 
to  play  against  Yale.  This  all  came  true.  The 
applause  which  greeted  him  when  Haughton  sent 
this  great  player  into  the  game — with  the  Doc- 
tor's approval — must  have  impressed  him  that 
one  and  all  were  glad  to  see  him  get  into  the 
game. 

Let  us  hear  what  Brickley  has  to  say  about 
playing  the  game. 

"I  have  often  been  asked  how  I  felt  when  at- 
tempting a  drop  kick  in  a  close  game  before  a 
large  crowd.  During  my  first  year  I  was  a 
little  nervous,  but  after  that  it  didn't  bother  me 
any  more  than  as  if  I  were  eating  lunch.  Con- 
stant practice  for  years  gave  me  the  feeling  that 
I  could  kick  the  ball  over  every  time  I  tried.  If 
I  was  successful,  those  who  have  seen  me  play  are 
the  best  judges.  Confidence  is  a  necessity  in 
drop  kicking.     The  three  hardest  games  I  ever 


[BRINGING  HOME  THE  BACON    285 

played  in  were  the  Dartmouth  3  to  0  game  in 
1912,  and  Princeton  3  to  0  in  1913,  and  the  Yale 
15  to  5  game  of  the  same  year.  The  hardest 
field  goal  I  ever  had  to  kick  was  against  Prince- 
ton in  the  mud  in  1913. 

"The  most  finished  player  in  all  around  play 
I  ever  came  across  is  Tack  Hardwick.  He  could 
go  through  a  game,  or  afternoon's  practice  and 
perform  every  fundamental  function  of  the  game 
in  perfect  fashion.  The  most  interesting  and  re- 
markable player  I  ever  came  across  was  Eddie 
Mahan.  He  could  do  anything  on  the  football 
field.  He  was  so  versatile,  that  no  real  defense 
could  be  built  against  him.  He  had  a  wonderful 
intuitive  sense  and  always  did  just  the  right  thing 
at  the  right  time." 


CHAPTER  XV 
"THE  BLOODY  ANGLE" 

FOOTBALL  in  its  very  nature  is  a  rough 
game.  It  calls  for  the  contact  of  bodies 
under  high  momentum  and  this  means 
strains  and  bruises !  Thanks  to  the  superb  phys- 
ical condition  of  players,  it  usually  means  noth- 
ing more  serious. 

The  play,  be  it  ever  so  hard,  is  liot  likely  to 
be  dangerous  provided  it  is  clean,  and  the  worst 
indictment  that  can  be  framed  against  a  player 
of  to-day,  and  that  by  his  fellows,  is  that  he  is 
given  to  dirty  tactics.  This  attitude  has  now 
been  established  by  public  opinion,  and  is  re- 
flected in  turn  by  the  strictness  of  officials,  the 
sentiment  of  coaches  and  football  authorities  gen- 
erally. So  scientific  is  the  game  to-day  that  only 
the  player  who  can  keep  his  head,  and  clear  his 
mind  of  angry  emotions,  is  really  a  valuable  man 
in  a  crisis. 

Again,  the  keynote  of  success  in  football  to- 
day is  team  work,  perfect  interlocking  of  all 
parts.  In  the  old  days  play  was  individual,  man 
against  man,  and  this  gave  rise  in  many  cases 
to  personal  animosity  which  frequently  reduced 
great  football  contests  to  little  more  than  pitched 

286 


"THE  BLOODY  ANGLE"         287 

battles.  Those  who  to-day  are  prone  to  decry 
football  as  a  rough  and  brutal  sport — which  it 
no  longer  is — might  at  least  reverse  their  opin- 
ions of  the  present  game,  could  they  have  spent 
a  certain  lurid  afternoon  in  the  fall  of  '87  at 
Jarvis  Field  where  the  elevens  of  Harvard  and 
Princeton  fought  a  battle  so  sanguinary  as  to 
come  down  to  us  through  the  years  legended 
as  a  real  crimson  affair.  One  of  the  sad- 
dest accidents  that  ever  occurred  on  a  univer- 
sity football  field  happened  in  this  contest  and 
suggested  the  caption  of  "the  Bloody  Angle," 
the  historic  shambles  of  the  great  Gettysburg 
battle. 

Luther  Price,  who  played  half  back  on  the 
Princeton  teams  of  '86  and  '87  and  who  was  act- 
ing captain  the  larger  part  of  the  latter  season, 
tells  the  following  story  of  the  game : 

"Princeton's  contest  with  Harvard  in  the 
autumn  of  '87  was  the  bloodiest  game  that  I  ever 
experienced  or  saw.  At  that  period  the  foot- 
ball relations  between  the  two  colleges  were  fast 
approaching  a  crisis  and  the  long  break  between 
the  institutions  followed  a  couple  of  seasons  later. 
It  is  perhaps  true  that  the  '87  game  was  largely 
responsible  for  the  rupture  because  it  left  secret 
bitterness. 

"In  fact,  the  game  was  pretty  near  butchery 
and  the  defects  of  the  rules  contributed  to  this 
end.  Both  sides  realized  that  the  contest  was 
going  to  be  a  hummer  but  neither  imagined  the 


288  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

extent  of  the  casualties.  Had  the  present  rules 
applied  there  would  have  been  a  long  string  of 
substitutes  in  the  game  and  the  caption  of  'The 
Bloody  Angle'  could  not  have  been  applied. 

"In  those  days  an  injured  player  was  not  al- 
lowed to  leave  the  field  of  play  without  the  con- 
sent of  the  opponents'  captain.  One  can  easily 
grasp  the  fact  that  your  adversaries'  captain  was 
not  apt  to  permit  a  player,  battered  almost  to 
worthlessness,  to  go  to  the  bench  and  to  allow 
you  to  substitute  a  strong  and  fresh  player. 
Therein  lies  the  tale  of  this  game. 

"Princeton  was  confident  of  winning  but  not 
overconfident.  We  went  out  to  Jarvis  field  on 
a  tallyho  from  Boston,  and  I  recall  how  eagerly 
we  dashed  upon  the  field,  anxious  for  the  scrap 
to  begin.  It  was  a  clear,  cold  day  with  a  firm 
turf — a  condition  that  helped  us,  as  we  were 
lighter  than  Harvard,  especially  behind  the  line. 
None  of  our  backs  weighed  more  than  155 
pounds. 

"Holden,  the  Crimson  captain,  was  probably 
the  most  dangerous  of  our  opponents.  He  was  a 
deceptive  running  back  owing  to  the  difficulty  of 
gauging  his  pace.  He  was  one  of  the  speediest 
sprinters  in  the  Eastern  colleges  and  if  he  man- 
aged to  circle  either  end  it  was  almost  good-bye 
to  his  opponents. 

"We  were  all  lying  in  wait  for  Holden,  not  to 
cripple  him  or  take  any  unfair  advantage,  but  to 
see  that  he  did  not  cross  our  goal  line.    It  was 


"THE  BLOODY  ANGLE"         289 

not  long  before  we  had  no  cause  to  be  concerned 
on  that  score.  But  before  Holden  was  disposed 
of  we  suffered  a  most  grievous  loss  in  the  dis- 
qualification of  Hector  Cowan,  our  left  guard 
and  our  main  source  of  strength.  Princeton 
worked  a  majority  of  the  tricks  through  Cowan 
and  when  he  was  gone  we  lost  the  larger  part  of 
our  offensive  power. 

"Cowan's  disquahfication  was  unjustified  by 
his  record  or  by  any  tendency  toward  unfair  play, 
though  this  statement  should  not  be  regarded  as  a 
reflection  on  the  fairness  of  Wyllys  Terry,  the  old 
Yale  player,  who  was  the  umpire.  Walter 
Camp,  by  the  way,  was  the  referee. 

"There  never  was  a  fairer  player  than  Cowan, 
and  such  a  misfortune  as  losing  him  by  disquahfi- 
cation for  any  act  on  the  field  was  never  dreamt 
of  by  the  Princeton  men.  The  trouble  was  that 
Terry  mistook  an  accident  for  a  deliberate  act. 
Holden  was  skirting  Princeton's  left  end  when 
Cowan  made  a  lunge  to  reach  him.  Holden's  de- 
ceptive pace  was  nearly  too  much  for  even  such 
a  star  as  Cowan,  whose  hands  slipped  from  the 
Harvard  captain's  waist  down  to  below  his 
knees  until  the  ankles  were  touched.  Cowan 
could  have  kept  his  hands  on  Holden's  ankles, 
but  as  tackling  below  the  knees  was  foul,  he 
quickly  let  go.  But  Holden  tumbled  and  several 
Princeton  men  were  on  him  in  a  j  iffy. 

"Harvard  immediately  claimed  that  it  was  a 
foul  tackle.     It  was  a  desperate  claim  but  it 


290  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

proved  successful.  To  our  astonishment  and 
chagrin,  Terry  ruled  Cowan  off  the  field. 
Cowan  was  thunderstruck  at  the  decision  and 
protested  that  he  never  meant  to  tackle  unfairly. 
We  argued  with  Terry  but  he  was  unrelenting. 
To  him  it  seemed  that  Cowan  meant  to  make  a 
foul  tackle.  The  situation  was  disheartening 
but  we  still  felt  that  we  had  a  good  chance  of 
pulling  through  even  without  Cowan. 

"What  was  particularly  galhng  to  us  was  that 
we  had  allowed  two  touchdowns  to  slip  from  our 
grasp.  Twice  we  had  carried  the  ball  to  within 
a  few  yards  of  the  Harvard  line  and  had  dropped 
the  ball  when  about  to  cross  it.  Both  errors  were 
hardly  excusable  and  were  traceable  to  over-anx- 
iety to  score.  With  Cowan  on  the  field  we  had 
found  that  he  could  open  up  the  Harvard  line  for 
the  backs  to  make  long  runs  but  now  that  he  was 
gone  we  could  be  sure  of  nothing  except  grilling 
work. 

"Soon  after  occurred  the  most  dramatic  and 
lamentable  incident  which  put  Holden  out  of  the 
game.  We  had  been  warned  long  before  the 
contest  that  Holden  was  a  fierce  tackier  and  that 
if  we,  who  were  back  of  the  Princeton  line, 
wished  to  stay  in  the  game  it  would  be  necessary 
to  watch  out  for  his  catapultic  lunges. 

"Holden  made  his  tackles  low,  a  kind  of  a 
running  dive  with  his  head  thrust  into  his 
quarry's  stomach.  The  best  policy  seemed,  in 
case  Holden  had  you  cornered,  to  go  at  him  with 


"THE  BLOODY  ANGLE"         291 

a  stiff  arm  and  a  suddenly  raised  knee  to  check 
his  onslaught  and,  if  possible,  shake  him  off  in  the 
shuffle,  but  that  was  a  mighty  difficult  matter  for 
light  backs  to  do. 

"First  the  line  was  opened  up  so  that  I  went 
through.  Harding,  the  Harvard  quarter,  who 
was  running  up  and  down  the  Crimson  line  like 
a  panther,  didn't  get  me.  My  hand  went 
against  his  face  and  somehow  I  got  rid  of  him. 
Finally  I  reached  Holden,  who  played  the  full- 
back position  while  on  the  defensive,  and  had  him 
to  pass  in  order  to  get  a  touchdown.  There  was 
a  savage  onslaught  and  Holden  had  me  on  the 
ground. 

"A  few  moments  later  Ames,  who  played 
back  with  Channing  and  me,  went  through  the 
Harvard  line  and  again  Holden  was  the  only; 
obstacle  to  a  touchdown  for  Princeton.  There 
was  another  savage  impact  and  both  players 
rolled  upon  the  ground,  but  this  time  Holden  did 
not  get  up.  He  got  his  man  but  he  was  uncon- 
scious or  at  least  seemingly  so.  His  chest  bone 
had  been  broken.  It  was  a  tense  moment.  We 
all  felt  a  pang  of  sj^mpathy,  for  Holden  was  a 
square,  if  rough,  player.  Harvard's  cheers  sub- 
sided into  murmurs  of  sorrow  and  Holden  was 
carried  tenderly  off  the  field. 

"The  accident  made  Harvard  desperate,  and 
as  we  were  without  Cowan  we  were  in  the  same 
mental  condition.  It  was  hammer  and  tongs 
from  that  time  on.    I  don't  know  that  there  was 


292  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

any  intention  to  put  players  out  of  business,  but 
there  was  not  much  mercy  shown. 

"It  appeared  to  me  that  some  doubt  existed  on 
the  Harvard  side  as  to  who  caused  Holden's 
chest  bone  to  be  broken,  but  that  the  suspicion 
was  mainly  directed  at  me.  Several  years  later 
an  article  written  at  Harvard  and  published  in 
the  Public  Ledger  in  Philadelphia  gave  a  long 
account  of  how  I  broke  Holden's  chest  bone. 
This  seemed  to  confirm  my  notion  that  there  was 
a  mixup  of  identity.  However  that  may  be,  it 
soon  became  evident  in  the  game  that  I  was 
marked  for  slaughter. 

"Vic  Harding  made  a  profound  and  lasting 
impression  on  me  both  with  his  hands  and  feet. 
In  fact,  Harding  played  in  few  games  of  im- 
portance in  which  he  was  not  disqualified.  He 
was  not  a  bad  fellow  at  all  in  social  relations,  but 
on  a  football  field  he  was  the  limit  of  'frightful- 
ness.*  I  don't  know  of  any  player  that  I  took 
so  much  pleasure  in  punching  as  Harding. 
Ames  and  Harding  also  took  delight  in  trying 
to  make  each  other's  faces  change  radically  in  ap- 
pearance. 

"I  think  that  Harding  began  to  paint  my  face 
from  the  start  of  the  game  and  that  as  it  pro- 
ceeded he  warmed  up  to  the  task,  seeing  that  he 
was  making  a  pretty  good  job  of  it.  He  had 
several  mighty  able  assistants.  The  work  was 
done  with  several  hundred  Wellesley  College 
girls,  who  were  seated  on  benches  close  to  the 


"THE  BLOODY  ANGLE"         293 

sideline,  looking  on  with  the  deepest  interest  and, 
as  it  soon  appeared,  with  much  sympathy.  I  will 
not  forget  how  concerned  they  looked. 

"By  the  middle  of  the  second  half  I  guess  they 
did  see  a  spectacle  in  me  for  they  began  to  call 
to  me  and  hold  out  handkerchiefs.  At  first  I 
didn't  realize  what  they  meant  for  I  was  so  much 
engaged  with  the  duties  that  lay  in  front  of  me 
that  it  was  difficult  to  notice  them,  but  their  en- 
treaties soon  enlightened  me.  They  were  ask- 
ing me  as  a  special  favor  to  clean  my  face  with 
their  handkerchiefs,  but  I  replied — perhaps 
rather  abruptly — that  I  really  didn't  have  time 
to  attend  to  my  facial  toilet. 

"My  nose  had  been  broken,  both  eyes  well 
closed  and  my  canvas  jacket  and  doeskin  knick- 
erbockers were  scarlet  or  crimson — whichever 
you  prefer — in  hue.  Strength  was  quickly  leav- 
ing me  and  the  field  swam.  I  finally  propped 
myself  up  against  a  goal  post.  The  next  thing 
I  knew  was  that  I  was  being  helped  off  the  field. 
My  brother,  Billy,  who  was  highly  indignant 
over  the  developments,  took  my  place.  This 
was  about  ten  or  fifteen  minutes  before  the  end 
of  the  game,  which  then  consisted  of  two  45 
minute  periods. 

"Ames  emerged  from  the  game  with  nothing 
more  than  the  usual  number  of  cuts  and  bruises. 
At  that  time  we  did  not  have  any  nose-guards, 
head-guards  and  other  paraphernalia  such  as  are 
used  nowadays,  except  that  we  could  get  ankle 


294  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

braces,  and  Ames  wore  one.  That  ankle  stood 
the  test  during  the  fight. 

"A  majority  of  the  other  players  were  pretty 
well  cut  up.  After  Cowan  was  disqualified  Bob 
(J.  Robb)  Church,  subsequently  Major  in  the 
United  States  Army  Medical  Corps  and  for- 
merly the  surgeon  of  Roosevelt's  Rough  Riders 
in  the  Spanish  War,  was  shifted  from  tackle  to 
Cowan's  position  at  guard.  Chapin,  a  brilliant 
student,  who  had  changed  from  Amherst  to 
Princeton,  went  in  at  tackle.  He  was  a  rather 
erratic  player,  and  Harvard  kept  pounding  in 
his  direction  with  the  result  that  Bob  Church  had 
a  sea  of  trouble  and  I  was  forced  to  move  up 
close  to  the  line  for  defensive  work.  It  was  this 
that  really  put  me  out  of  business.  My  left 
shoulder  had  been  hurt  early  in  the  season  and 
it  was  bound  in  rubber,  but  fortunately  it  was 
not  much  worse  off  than  at  the  beginning  of  the 
game. 

"Bob  Church  risked  his  life  more  than  once  in 
the  Spanish  War  and  for  his  valor  he  received 
a  Medal  of  Honor  from  Congress,  but  it  is  safe 
to  say  that  he  never  got  such  a  gruelling  as  in 
this  Harvard  game.  He  was  battered  to  the  ex- 
tent of  finding  it  difficult  to  rise  after  tackling 
and  finally  he  was  lining  up  on  his  knees.  It 
was  a  magnificent  exhibition  of  pluck.  As  I 
recall.  Bob  lasted  to  the  end  of  the  game. 

"It  was  not  until  nc^^r  the  close  that  any  scor- 
ing took  place  and  then  Harvard  made  two 


"THE  BLOODY  ANGLE"         295 

touchdowns  in  quick  succession.  We  lacked 
substitutes  to  put  in  and,  even  if  we  had  had 
them,  it  is  doubtful  whether  we  could  have  got 
them  in  as  long  as  a  player  was  able  to  stand  up. 
The  only  satisfaction  we  had  was  that  we  had 
done  the  best  we  could  to  win  and  our  confidence 
that  with  Cowan  we  could  have  won  even  if 
Holden  had  not  been  hurt.  We  had  beaten 
Harvard  the  year  before  with  essentially  the 
same  team  that  we  played  in  this  game." 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  FAMILY  IN  FOOTBALL 

IT  is  almost  possible,  I  think,  to  divide  foot- 
ball men  into  two  distinct  classes — those  who 
are  made  into  players  (and  often  very  good 
ones)  by  the  coaches  and  those  who  are  born  with 
the  football  instinct.  Just  how  to  define  foot- 
ball instinct  is  a  puzzle,  but  it  is  very  easy  to 
discern  it  in  a  candidate,  even  if  he  never  saw  a 
football  till  he  set  foot  on  the  campus.  By  and 
large,  it  will  be  read  first  in  a  natural  aptitude  for 
following  the  ball.  After  that,  in  the  general 
way  he  has  of  handling  himself,  from  falling  on 
the  ball  to  dodging  and  straight  arm.  Watch 
the  head  coach  grin  when  some  green  six-foot 
freshman  dives  for  a  rolhng  ball  and  instinctively 
clutches  it  into  the  soft  part  of  his  body  as  he 
falls  on  it.  Nobody  told  him  to  do  it  just  that 
way,  or  to  keep  his  long  arms  and  legs  under  con- 
trol so  as  to  avoid  accident,  but  he  does  it  never- 
theless and  thus  shows  his  football  instinct. 

There  is  still  another  kind  of  football  instinct, 
and  that  is  the  kind  that  is  passed  down  from 
father  to  son  and  from  brother  to  brother.  They 
say  that  the  lacemakers  of  Nottingham  don't 
have  to  be  taught  how  to  mf  ke  lace  because,  as 

296 


THE  FAMILY  IX  FOOTBALL     297 

children,  they  somehow  absorb  most  of  the  neces- 
sary knowledge  in  the  bosom  of  their  family,  and 
I  think  the  same  thing  is  true  of  sons  and  brothers 
of  football  players.  Generally,  they  pick  up  the 
essentials  of  the  game  from  "Pop"  long  before 
they  get  to  school  or  college  or  else  are  properly 
educated  by  an  argus-eyed  brother. 

But  the  matter  of  getting  football  knowledge 
'•■ — of  developing  the  instinct — isn't  always  left 
to  the  boy.  Unless  I'm  grievously  mistaken  it's 
more  often  the  fond  father  who  takes  the  first 
step.  In  fact,  some  fathers  I've  known  have, 
with  a  commendable  eye  to  future  victories,  even 
dated  the  preparation  of  their  offspring  from  the 
horn*  when  he  was  first  shown  them  by  the  nurse : 
"Let  me  take  a  squint  at  the  little  rascal,"  says 
the  beaming  father  and  expertly  examines  the 
young  hopeful's  legs.  "All,  hah,  bully!  We'll 
make  a  real  football  player  out  of  him!'' 

And  so,  some  day  when  Dick  or  Ken  is  six 
or  seven,  Father  produces  a  strange  looking, 
leather-cased  bladder  out  of  a  trunk  where 
JNIother  hasn't  discovered  it  and  blows  it  up  out 
on  the  front  porch  under  the  youngster's  inquisi- 
tive eye  and  tucks  in  the  neck  and  laces  it  up. 

"What  is  it,  Pop  ?  What  you  going  to  do  with 
it?" 

"That's  what  men  call  a  football.  Son.  And 
right  now  I'm  going  to  kick  it."  And  kick  it  he 
does — all  around  the  lot — until  after  a  particu- 
larly good  lift  he  chuckles  to  himself,  the  old  war 


298  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

horse,  and  with  the  smell  of  ancient  battles  in  his 
nostrils  sits  down  to  give  the  boy  his  first  lesson 
in  the  manliest  and  best  game  on  earth.  And 
this  first  lesson  is  tackling.  Perhaps  the  picture 
on  the  opposite  page  will  remind  you  of  the  time 
you  taught  your  boys  the  good  old  game. 

This  particular  kind  of  football  instinct  has 
produced  many  of  the  finest  players  the  colleges 
have  ever  seen.  In  a  real  football  family  there 
isn't  much  bluffing  as  to  what  you  can  do  nor 
are  there  many  excuses  for  a  fumble  or  a  missed 
tackle.  With  your  big  brothers'  ears  open  and 
their  tongues  ready  with  a  caustic  remark,  it 
doesn't  need  "Pop's"  keen  eye  to  keep  you  within 
the  realms  of  truth  as  to  the  length  of  your  run 
or  why  you  missed  that  catch. 

Quite  often,  as  it  happens,  "Pop"  is  thinking 
of  a  certain  big  game  he  once  played  in  and  re- 
membering a  play —  Ah!  if  only  he  could  for- 
get that  play! — in  which  he  fumbled  and  missed 
the  chance  of  a  life-time.  Like  some  inexorable 
motion  picture  film  that  refuses  to  throw  any- 
thing but  one  fatal  scene  on  the  screen,  his  recol- 
lections make  the  actors  take  their  well-remem- 
bered positions  and  the  play  begins.  For  the 
thousandth  time  he  gnashes  his  teeth  as  he  sees 
the  ball  slip  from  his  grasp.  "Dog-gone  it,"  he 
mutters,  "if  my  boy  doesn't  do  better  in  the  big 
game  than  1  did,  I'll  whale  the  hide  off  him!" 

Strangely  enough  not  all  brothers  of  a  foot- 
ball family  follow  one  another  to  the  same  col- 


THE  FAMILY  IN  FOOTBALL     299 

lege,  and  there  have  been  several  cases  where 
brother  played  against  brother.  But  for  the 
only  son  of  a  great  player  to  go  anywhere  else 
than  to  his  father's  college  would  be  rank  heresy. 
I  daresay  even  the  other  college  wouldn't  like  it. 

Of  famous  fathers  whose  football  instinct  de- 
scended without  dilution  into  their  sons  perhaps 
the  easiest  remembered  have  been  Walter  Camp, 
who  captained  the  Elis  in  '78  and  '79  and  whose 
son,  Walter,  Jr.,  played  fullback  in  1911 — Al- 
fred T.  Baker,  one  of  the  Princeton  backs  in  '83, 
and  '84,  whose  son  Hobey  captained  his  team  in 
1914 — Snake  Ames,  who  played  in  four  cham- 
pionship games  for  Princeton  against  both  Yale 
and  Harvard,  and  whose  son,  Knowlton  Ames, 
Jr.,  played  on  the  Princeton  teams  of  '12,  '13  and 
'14— and  that  sterling  Yale  tackle  of  '91  and  '92, 
"Wallie"  Winter,  whose  son,  Wallace,  Jr., 
played  on  his  Freshman  team  in  1915. 

When  we  come  to  enumerating  the  brothers 
who  have  played,  it  is  the  Poe  family  which  comes 
first  to  mind.  Laying  aside  friendship  or  natural 
bias,  I  feel  that  my  readers  will  agree  with  me  in 
the  belief  that  it  would  be  hard  to  find  six  foot- 
ball players  ranking  higher  than  the  six  Poe 
brothers.  Altogether,  Princeton  has  seen  some 
twenty-two  years  of  Poes,  during  at  least  thirteen 
of  which  there  was  a  Poe  on  the  Varsity  team. 
Johnson  Poe,  '84,  came  first,  to  be  followed  by 
Edgar  Allen,  twice  captain,  then  by  Johnny,  now 
in  his  last  resting  place  "somewhere  in  France," 


300  FOOTBALL  DA/S 

then  by  Nelson,  then  Arthur,  twice  the  fly  in 
Yale's  ointment,  and  lastly  by  Gresham  Poe.  I 
haven't  a  doubt  but  that  after  due  lapse  of  time 
this  wonderful  family  will  produce  other  Poes, 
sons  and  cousins,  to  carry  on  the  precious  tradi- 
tion. 

Next  in  point  of  numbers  probably  comes  the 
Riggs  family  of  five  brothers,  of  whom  three, 
Lawrence,  Jesse  and  Dudley,  played  on  Prince- 
ton teams,  while  Harry  and  Frank  were  substi- 
tutes. The  Hodge  family  were  four  who  played 
at  Princeton — Jack,  Hugh,  Dick  and  Sam. 

After  the  Riggs  family  comes  the  Young  fam- 
ily of  Cornell — Ed.,  Charles,  George  and  Will — 
all  of  whom  played  tremendously  for  the  Car- 
nelian  and  White  in  the  nineties.  Charles 
Young  later  studied  at  the  Theological  Seminary 
at  Princeton  and  played  wonderful  football  on 
the  scrub  in  my  time  from  sheer  love  of  sport, 
since  as  he  is,  at  this  writing,  physical  director  at 
Cornell.  Amherst  boasts  of  the  wonderful  Pratt 
brothers,  who  did  much  for  Amherst  football. 

Of  threes  there  are  quite  a  number.  Prom- 
inent among  them  have  been  the  Wilsons  of  both 
Yale  and  Princeton,  Tom  being  a  guard  on  the 
Princeton  teams  of  1911  and  1912,  while  Alex 
captained  Yale  in  1915  and  saw  another  brother 
in  orange  and  black  waiting  on  the  side  lines 
across  the  field.  Situations  like  this  are  always 
productive  of  thrills.  Let  the  brother  who  has 
been  waiting  longingly  throw  off  his  blanket  and 


THE  FAMILY  IN  FOOTBALL     301 

rush  across  the  field  into  his  position  and  in- 
stantly the  news  flashes  through  the  stands. 
^'Brother  against  brother!"  goes  the  thrilling 
whisper — and  every  heart  gives  an  extra  throb 
as  it  hungers  in  an  unholy  but  perfectly  human 
way  for  a  clash  between  the  two.  There  were 
three  Harlan  brothers  who  played  at  Princeton  in 
'81,  '83,  '84. 

At  Harvard  Lothrope,  Paul  and  Ted  With- 
ington;  Percy,  Jack  and  Sam  Wendell. 

In  Cornell  a  redoubtable  trio  were  the  Taus- 
sigs.  Of  these  J.  Hawley  Taussig  played  end 
for  four  years  ending  with  the  '96  team.  Charles 
followed  in  the  same  position  in  '99,  '00  and  '01 
and  Joseph  K.,  later  Lieutenant  Commander  of 
the  torpedoboat  destroyer  Wadsworth  played 
quarter  on  the  Naval  Academy  team  in  '97  and 
'98. 

A  third  trio  of  brothers  were  the  Greenways 
of  Yale.  Of  these,  John  and  Gil  Greenway 
played  both  football  and  baseball  while  Jim 
Greenway  rowed  on  the  crew.  Another  Prince- 
ton family,  well  known,  has  been  the  INIoffats. 
The  first  of  these  to  play  football  was  Henry, 
who  played  on  the  '73  team  which  was  the  first 
to  beat  Yale.  He  was  followed  by  the  redoubt- 
able Alex,  who  kicked  goals  from  aU  over  the 
field  in  '82,  '83,  and  '84,  by  Will  INIoffat  who  was 
a  Varsity  first  baseman  and  by  Ned  JNIoffat  who 
played  with  me  at  Lawrenceville.  Equally  well 
known  have  been  the  Hallowells  of  Harvard — F. 


302  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

W.  Hallowell,  '93,  R.  H.  Hallowell,  '96,  and  J. 
W.  Hallowell,  '01.  Another  Hallowell— Pen- 
rose— was  on  the  track  team,  while  Colonel  Hal- 
lowell, the  father,  was  always  a  power  in  Har- 
vard athletics. 

When  we  come  to  cite  the  pairs  of  brothers 
who  have  played,  the  list  seems  endless.  The 
first  to  come  to  mind  are  Laurie  Bliss  of  the  Yale 
teams  of  '90,  '91  and  '92  and  "Pop"  Bliss  of  the 
'92  team,  principally,  I  think,  because  of  Laurie's 
wonderful  end  running  behind  interference  and 
because  "Pop"  Bliss,  at  a  crucial  moment  in  a 
Harvard- Yale  game  deliberately  disobej'^ed  the 
signal  to  plunge  through  centre  on  Harvard's 
2-yard  line  and  ingeniously  ran  around  the  end 
for  a  touchdown.  Tommy  Baker  and  Alfred 
Baker  were  brothers. 

Continuing  the  Yale  list,  there  have  been  the 
Hinkeys,  Frank  and  Louis,  who  need  no  praise 
as  wonderful  players — Charlie  and  Johnny  de 
SauUes— Sherman  and  "Ted"  Coy— W.  O.  Hic- 
kok,  the  famous  guard  of  '92,  '93  and  '94  and 
his  brother  Ross — Herbert  and  Malcolm  ^Ic- 
Bride,  both  of  whom  played  fullback — Tad 
Jones  and  his  brother  Howard — the  Philbins, 
Steve  and  Holliday — Charlie  Chadwick  and  his 
younger  brother,  George,  who  captained  his 
team  in  1902.  Their  father  before  them  was  an 
athlete. 

In  Harvard  there  have  been  the  Traffords, 
Perry  and  Bernie — Arthur  Brewer  and  Charley 


THE  FAMILY  IN  FOOTBALL     303 

the  fleet  of  foot,  who  ran  ninety  yards  in  the 
Harvard-Princeton  game  of  1895  and  caught 
Suter  from  behind — the  two  Shaws, — Evarts 
Wrenn,  '92  and  his  famous  cousin  Bob  who 
played  tennis  quite  as  well  as  he  played  football. 

Princeton,  too,  has  seen  many  pairs  of  broth- 
ers— "Beef"  Wheeler,  the  famous  guard  of  '92, 
'93  and  '94  and  Bert  Wheeler,  the  splendid  full- 
back of  '98  and  '99  whose  cool-headed  playing 
helped  us  win  from  Yale  both  in  Princeton  and 
at  New  Haven — the  Rosengartens,  Albert  and 
his  cousin  Fritz  and  Albert's  brother  who  played 
for  Pennsylvania — the  Tibbotts,  Dave  and  Fred 
— J.  R.  Church,  '88,  and  Bill  Church,  the  roar- 
ing, stamping  tackle  of  '95  and  '96 — Ross  and 
Steve  ]Mc Clave — Harry  and  George  Lathrope — 
Jarvis  Geer  and  JNIarshall  Geer  who  played  with 
me  on  teams  at  both  school  and  college — Billy 
Bannard  and  Horace  Bannard — Fred  Kafer  and 
Dana  Kafer,  the  first  named  being  also  the  very 
best  amateur  catcher  I  have  ever  seen.  Fred 
Kafer,  by  the  way,  furnished  an  interesting  an- 
achronism in  that  while  he  was  one  of  the  ablest 
mathematicians  of  his  time  in  college  he  found  it 
wellnigh  impossible  to  remember  his  football  sig- 
nals! Let  us  not  forget,  too,  Bal  Ballin,  who 
was  a  Princeton  captain,  and  his  brother  Cyril. 

In  other  colleges,  the  instances  of  football  skill 
developed  by  brotherly  emulation  have  been 
nearly  as  well  marked.  Dartmouth,  for  instance, 
produced  the  Bankhart  brothers — Cornell,  the 


304  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Starbucks — one  of  them,  Raymond,  captaining 
his  team — the  Cools,  Frank  and  Gib — the  latter 
being  picked  by  good  judges  as  the  All- America 
center  in  1915 — and  the  Warners,  Bill  and 
Glenn. 

The  greatest  three  players  from  any  one  fam- 
ily that  ever  played  the  backfield  would  probably 
be  the  three  Draper  brothers — Louis,  Phil  and 
Fred.  All  went  to  Williams  and  all  were  stars ; 
heavy,  fast  backs,  who  were  good  both  on  defense 
and  offense,  capable  of  doing  an  immense  amount 
of  work  and  never  getting  hurt. 

At  Pennsylvania,  there  have  been  the  Folwells, 
Nate  and  R.  C.  Folwell  and  the  Woodruffs, 
George  and  Wiley,  although  George  Woodruff, 
originator  of  the  celebrated  "guards  back,"  was  a 
Yale  man  long  before  he  coached  at  Pennsylva- 
nia. It  is  impossible  for  any  one  who  saw  Jack 
Minds  play  to  forget  this  great  back  of  '94,  '95, 
'96  and  '97,  whose  brother  also  wore  the  Red  and 
Blue  a  few  years  later. 

Doubtless  there  have  been  many  more  fathers, 
brothers  and  sons  who  have  been  equally  famous 
and  I  ask  indulgence  for  my  sins  of  omission,  for 
the  list  is  long.  Principally,  I  have  recalled  their 
names  for  the  reason  that  I  knew  or  now  know 
many  of  these  great  players  intimately  and  so 
have  learned  the  curious  longing — perhaps  "pas- 
sion"— for  the  game  which  is  passed  from  one  to 
the  other  of  a  football  family.  In  a  way  this 
might  be  compared  with  the  military  spirit  which 


THE  FAJMILY  IX  FOOTBALL     305 

allows  a  family  to  state  proudly  that  ''we  have 
always  been  Army  (or  Navy)  people."  And 
who  shall  say  that  the  clash  and  conflict  of  this 
game,  invented  and  played  only  by  thoroughly 
virile  men,  are  not  productive  of  precisely  those 
qualities  of  which  the  race  may,  some  day,  well 
stand  in  need.  If  by  the  passing  down  from 
father  to  son  and  from  brother  to  brother  of  a 
spirit  of  cheerful  self-denial  throughout  the  hard 
fall  months — of  grim  doggedness  under  imminent 
defeat  and  of  fair  play  at  all  times,  whether  victor 
or  vanquished — a  finer,  truer  sense  of  what  a  man 
may  be  and  do  is  forged  out  of  the  raw  material, 
then  football  may  feel  that  it  has  served  a  pur- 
pose even  nobler  than  that  of  being  simply  Amer- 
ica's greatest  college  game. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS 

THERE  are  not  many  football  enthusiasts 
who  analyze  the  factors  that  bring  vic- 
tory. Many  of  us  do  not  appreciate  the 
importance  attached  to  the  trainer,  or  realize  the 
great  part  that  he  plays,  until  we  are  out  of  col- 
lege. We  know  that  the  men  who  bore  the  brunt 
of  the  battle  have  received  their  full  share  of 
glory — the  players  and  coaches. 

But  there  arises  in  the  midst  of  our  athletic 
world  men  who  trained,  men  who  safeguarded  the 
players.  Trainers  have  been  associated  with 
football  since  the  early  eighties,  and  a  careful 
trainer's  eye  should  ever  be  on  the  lookout  wher- 
ever football  is  played.  Players,  coaches  and 
trainers  go  hand  in  hand  in  football. 

Every  one  of  these  men  that  I  have  known  has 
had  a  strong  personality.  Each  one,  however, 
differed  somewhat  from  the  others.  There  is  a 
great  affection  on  the  part  of  the  players  for  the 
man  who  cares  for  their  athletic  welfare.  These 
men  are  often  more  than  mere  trainers.  Their 
personalities  have  carried  them  farther  than  the 
dressing  room.  Their  interest  in  the  boys  has 
continued  after  they  left  college.     Their  influence 

306 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     307 

has    been   a   lasting   one,   morally,    as   well   as 
physical^. 

On  account  of  their  association,  the  trainers 
keep  pace  with  the  men  about  them ;  not  limiting 
their  interest  to  athletics.  They  are  always 
found  entertaining  at  the  athletic  banquets,  and 
their  personalities  count  for  much  on  the  campus. 
They  are  all  but  boys  grown  up,  with  well  known 
athletic  records  behind  them.  In  the  hospital, 
or  in  the  quietness  of  a  college  room,  or  on  trips, 
the  trainer  is  a  friend  and  adviser. 

Go  and  talk  to  the  trainer  of  the  football  team 
if  you  want  to  get  an  unbiased  opinion  of  the 
team's  work  or  of  the  value  of  the  individual 
coaches.  Some  of  our  trainers  know  much  about 
the  game  of  football — the  technical  side — and 
their  advice  is  valuable. 

Every  trainer  longs  to  handle  good  material, 
but  more  power  to  the  trainer  who  goes  ahead 
with  what  he's  got  and  makes  the  best  out  of  it 
without  a  murmur.  In  our  recollections  we  know 
of  teams  that  were  reported  to  be  going  stale 
— "overtrained" — "a  team  of  crijDples" — who 
slumped — could  not  stand  the  test — were  easily 
winded — could  not  endure. 

They  were  nightmares  to  the  trainer.  Soon 
you  read  in  the  daily  press  indications  that  a 
change  of  trainer  is  about  to  take  place  in  such 
a  college. 

Then  we  turn  to  another  page  of  our  recollec- 
tions where  we  read : 


308  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"The  team  is  fit  to  play  the  game  of  their 
lives."  "Only  eleven  men  were  used  in  to-day's 
game."  "Great  tribute  to  the  trainer."  "Men 
could  have  played  all  day" — "no  time  taken  out" 
— "not  a  man  injured" — "pink  of  condition." 
Usually  all  this  spells  victory. 

Jack  McMasters  was  the  first  trainer  that  I 
met.  "Scottie,"  as  every  one  affectionately 
called  him,  never  asked  a  man  to  work  for  him 
any  harder  than  he  would  work  himself.  In  a 
former  chapter  you  have  read  how  Jack  and  I 
put  in  some  hard  work  together. 

I  recall  a  trip  to  Boston,  where  Princeton  was 
to  play  Harvard.  Most  of  the  Princeton  team 
had  retired  for  the  night.  About  ten  o'clock 
Arthur  Poe  came  down  into  the  corridor  of  the 
Vendome  Hotel  and  told  "Scottie"  that  Bill 
Church  and  Johnny  Baird  were  upstairs  taking 
a  cold  shower. 

Jack  was  furious,  and  without  stopping  for  the 
elevator  hustled  upstairs  two  steps  at  a  time  only 
to  find  both  of  these  players  sound  asleep  in  bed. 
Needless  to  say  that  Arthur  Poe  kept  out  of  sight 
until  Jack  retired  for  the  night.  A  trainer's  Hfe 
is  not  all  pleasure. 

Once  after  the  train  had  started  from  Prince- 
ton this  same  devilish  Arthur  Poe,  as  Jack 
would  call  him,  rushed  up  forward  to  where  Jack 
was  sitting  in  the  train  and  said: 

"Jack,  I  don't  see  Bummie  Booth  anywhere  on 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     309 

the  train.     I  guess  he  must  have  been  left  be- 
hind." 

With  much  haste  and  worry  Jack  made  a  hur- 
ried search  of  the  entire  train  to  find  Booth  sitting 
in  the  last  seat  in  the  rear  car  with  a  broad  grin 
on  his  face. 

Jack's  training  experience  was  a  very  broad 
one.  He  trained  many  victorious  teams  at  Har- 
vard after  he  left  Princeton  and  was  finally 
trainer  at  Annapolis.  A  pronounced  decoration 
that  adorns  "Scottie"  is  a  much  admired  bunch 
of  gold  footballs  and  baseballs,  which  he  wears 
suspended  from  his  watch  chain — in  fact,  so 
many,  that  he  has  had  to  have  his  chain  rein- 
forced. If  you  could  but  sit  down  with  Jack 
and  admire  this  prized  collection  and  listen 
to  some  of  his  prized  achievements — humor- 
ous stories  of  the  men  he  has  trained  and  some  of 
the  victories  which  these  trophies  designate  you 
would  agree  with  me  that  no  two  covers  could 
hold  them. 

But  we  must  leave  Jack  for  the  present  at 
home  with  his  family  in  Sandy  Hook  Cottage, 
Drummore  by  Stranraer,  Scotland,  in  the  best  of 
health,  happy  in  his  recollection  of  a  serv^ice  well 
rendered  and  appreciated  by  every  one  who 
knew  him. 

Jim  Robinson 

There  was  something  about  Jim  Robinson  that 
made  the  men  who  knew  him  in  his  training  days 


310  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

refer  to  him  as  "Dear  Old  Jim,"  and  although  he 
no  longer  cries  out  from  the  side  lines  "trot  up, 
men,"  a  favorite  expression  of  his  when  he  wanted 
to  keep  the  men  stirring  about,  there  still  lives 
within  all  of  us  who  knew  him  a  keen  appreciation 
of  his  service  and  loyalty  to  the  different  colleges 
where  he  trained. 

He  began  training  at  Princeton  in  1883  and  he 
finished  his  work  there.  How  fine  was  the  trib- 
ute that  was  paid  him  on  the  day  of  his  funeral! 
Dolly  Dillon,  captain  of  the  1906  team,  and  his 
loyal  team  mates,  all  of  whom  had  been  carefully 
attended  by  Jim  Robinson  on  the  football  field 
that  fall,  acted  as  pallbearers.  There  was  also 
a  host  of  old  athletes  and  friends  from  all  over 
the  country  who  came  to  pay  their  last  tribute  to 
this  great  sportsman  and  trainer. 

Mike  Murphy  and  Jim  Robinson  were  always 
contesting  trainers.  At  Princeton  that  day  with 
the  team  gathered  around.  Murphy  related  some 
interesting  and  touching  experiences  of  Jim's 
career. 

Jim's  family  still  lives  at  Princeton,  and  on 
one  of  my  recent  visits  there,  I  called  upon  Mrs. 
Robinson.  We  talked  of  Jim,  and  I  saw  again 
the  loving  cups  and  trophies  that  Jim  had  shown 
me  years  before. 

Jim  Robinson  trained  many  of  the  heroes  of 
the  old  days,  Hector  Cowan  being  one  of  them. 
In  later  years  he  idolized  the  playing  of  that  great 
football  hero,  John  DeWitt,  who  appreciated 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     311 

all  that  Jim  did  to  make  his  team  the  winner. 
The  spirit  of  Jim  Robinson  was  comforting  as 
well  as  humorous.  No  mention  of  Jim  would 
be  complete  without  his  dialect. 

He  was  an  Englishman  and  abused  his  h's  in 
a  way  that  was  a  delight  to  the  team.  Ross 
JNIcClave  tells  of  fun  at  the  training  table  one  day 
when  he  asked  Jim  how  to  spell  "saloon."  Jim, 
smiling  broadly  and  knowing  he  was  to  amuse 
these  fellows  as  he  had  the  men  in  days  gone  by, 
said:  "Hess — Hay — Hell — two  Hoes — and — a 
Hen." 

Few  men  got  more  work  out  of  a  team  than 
did  Jim  Robinson.  There  was  always  a  time 
for  play  and  a  time  for  work  with  Jim. 

Mike  3Iuiiphy 

Mike  INIurphy  was  the  dean  of  trainers. 

Bob  Torrey,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
center-rushes  that  Pennsylvania  ever  had,  is  per- 
haps one  of  the  greatest  admirers  of  JMike  INIur- 
phy during  his  latter  years.  Torrey  can  tell  it 
better  than  I  can. 

"Murphy's  sense  of  system  was  wonderful;  he 
was  a  keen  observer  and  had  a  remarkable  mem- 
ory; he  seemed  to  do  very  little  in  the  way  of 
bookkeeping,  but  his  mind  was  carefully  pigeon- 
holed and  was  a  perfect  card  index. 

"He  could  have  thirty  men  on  the  field  at  once 
and  carry  on  conversations  with  visitors  and  grad- 
uates; issue  orders  to  workmen  and  never  lose 


312  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

sight  of  a  single  one  of  his  men.  He  was  popular 
wherever  he  went.  His  fame  was  not  only 
known  here,  but  abroad.  His  charm  of  manner 
and  his  cheerful  courage  will  be  remembered  by 
all  who  knew  him,  but  only  those  who  knew  him 
well  realize  what  an  influence  he  had  on  the  boys 
with  whom  he  worked,  and  how  high  were  his 
ideals  of  manhood.  The  amount  of  good  done  by 
Mike  Murphy  in  steering  boys  into  the  right 
track  can  never  be  estimated." 

Prep'  School  boys  athletically  inclined  followed 
Murphy.  Many  a  man  went  to  college  in  order 
to  get  Murphy's  training.  He  was  an  athletic 
magnet. 

"The  Old  Mike" 

The  town  of  Natick,  Mass.,  boasts  of  Mike 
Murphy's  early  days.  Wonderful  athletic  tra- 
ditions centered  there.  His  early  days  were 
eventful  for  his  athletic  success,  as  he  won  all 
kinds  of  professional  prizes  for  short  distance 
running.  Boyhood  friends  of  Mike  Murphy  tell 
of  the  comradeship  among  ]Mike  Murphy,  Keene 
Fitzpatrick,  Pooch  and  Piper  Donovan — all  Na- 
tick  boys.  They  give  glowing  accounts  of  the 
"truck  team"  consisting  of  this  clever  quartet, 
each  of  whom  were  "ten-second"  men  in  the 
sprinting  game. 

If  that  great  event  which  was  run  off  at  the 
Marlboro  Fair  and  Cattle  Show  could  be  wit- 
nessed to-day,  thousands  of  admirers  would  love 
to  see  in  action  those  trainers,  see  them  as  the 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     313 

Natick  Hose  truck  defeated  the  Westboro  team 
that  day,  and  sent  the  Westboro  contingent  home 
with  shattered  hopes  and  empty  pocketbooks. 

"In  connection  with  Army-Navy  games," 
writes  Crohus  of  Dartmouth,  "I'll  never  forget 
Mike  INIurphy's  wonderful  ability  to  read  men's 
condition  by  their  'mental  attitude.'  He  was 
nearly  infallible  in  his  diagnosis. 

Once  we  questioned  3Iike.  He  said,  "Go  get 
last  year's  money  back,  you're  going  to  lick 
them !"  And  true  to  his  uncanny  understanding 
he  was  right.  Was  it  any  wonder  that  men  gave 
Murphy  the  credit  due  him? 

Mike  Murphy  had  a  strong  influence  over  the 
players.  He  was  their  ever-present  friend.  He 
could  talk  to  a  man,  and  his  personality  could 
reach  farther  than  any  of  the  coaches.  The  teams 
that  Murphy  talked  to  between  the  halves,  both 
at  Yale  and  Pennsylvania,  were  always  inspired. 
Mike  INIurphy  always  gave  a  man  something  of 
himself. 

It  is  interesting  to  read  what  a  fellow  trainer, 
Keene  Fitzpatrick,  has  to  say  of  Mike : 

"Mike  first  started  to  train  at  Yale.  Then  he 
went  to  the  Detroit  Athletic  Club  in  Detroit ;  then 
he  came  back  to  Yale ;  then  he  went  to  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania;  then  back  to  Yale 
again,  and  finally  back  to  the  University  of 
Penn',  where  he  died. 

"We  were  always  great  friends  and  got  to- 
gether every  summer;  we  used  to  go  up  to  a  little 


314  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

country  town,  Westboro,  on  a  farm;  had  a  little 
room  in  a  farmhouse  outside  of  the  town  of 
Natick,  and  there  we  used  to  get  together  every 
year  (Mike  and  Fitz')  and  share  our  opinions, 
and  compare  and  give  each  other  the  benefit  of 
our  discoveries  of  the  season's  work. 

"Murphy  was  one  of  the  greatest  sprinters  this 
world  ever  had.  They  called  him  'stucky'  be- 
cause he  had  so  much  grit  and  determination. 
The  year  after  Mike  died  the  Intercollegiate  was 
held  at  Cambridge.  All  the  trainers  got  together 
and  a  lot  of  flowers  were  sent  out  to  JNIike's  grave 
in  Hopkinton,  Massachusetts." 

A   CHAT   WITH   POOCH   DONOVAN 

Pooch  Donovan's  success  at  Harvard  goes 
hand  in  hand  with  that  of  Haughton. 

In  the  great  success  of  Harvard's  Varsity, 
year  after  year,  the  fine  hand  of  the  trainer  has 
been  noticeable.  Harvard's  teams  have  stood  the 
test  wonderfully  well,  and  all  the  honors  that  go 
with  victory  have  been  heaped  upon  Pooch  Don- 
ovan's head. 

Every  man  on  the  Harvard  squad  knows  that 
Donovan  can  get  as  much  work  out  of  his  players 
as  it  is  possible  for  any  human  being  to  get  out 
of  them.  Pooch  Donovan  served  at  Yale  in  1888, 
1889  and  1890,  when  JNIike  INIurphy  was  trainer 
there.  He  and  Donovan  used  to  have  long  talks 
together  and  they  were  ever  comparing  notes  on 
the  training  of  varsity  teams.     Pooch  Donovan 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     315 

owes  much  to  JNIike  Murphy,  and  the  latter  was 
Pooch's  loyal  supporter. 

"What  made  ]\Iike  Murphy  a  sturdy  man,  was 
that  he  was  such  a  hard  loser — he  could  not  stand 
to  lose,"  says  Donovan. 

"You  know  the  thing  that  keeps  me  young  is 
working  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  these  young 
fellows."  This  to  me,  in  the  dressing-room, 
where  we  have  no  time  for  anji:hing  but  cold 
truths.  "It  was  the  same  thing  that  kept  JNIike 
]Murphy  going  ten  years  after  the  doctors  said  he 
would  soon  be  all  in.  That  was  when  he  returned 
to  Yale,  after  he  had  been  at  Pennsylvania. 
There  is  something  about  this  sort  of  work  that 
invigorates  us  and  keeps  us  young.  I'm  no 
longer  a  young  man  in  years,  but  it  is  the  spirit 
and  inspiration  of  youth  with  which  this  work 
identifies  me  that  keeps  me  really  young." 

When  I  asked  Pooch  about  Eddie  Mahan's 
great  all-around  ability,  his  face  lighted  up,  and 
I  saw  immediately  that  what  I  had  heard  was 
true — that  Donovan  simply  idolized  Eddie  Ma- 
han.  INIahan  lives  in  Natick,  Massachusetts, 
where  Donovan  also  has  his  home.  He  has  seen 
Ned  Mahan  grow  to  manhood.  JNIahan  had  his 
first  football  training  as  a  player  on  the  Natick 
High  School  team. 

"Ned  :Mahan,"  said  Pooch,  "was  the  best  all- 
around  football  man  I  have  ever  handled.  He 
was  easy  to  handle,  eager  to  do  as  he  was  told, 
and  he  never  caused  the  trainer  any  worry.     ,Up 


316  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

to  the  very  last  moment  he  played,  he  was  eager 
to  learn  everything  he  could  that  would  improve 
his  game.     He  had  lots  of  football  ability. 

*Tfou  know  Mahan  was  a  great  star  at  An- 
dover.  He  kicked  wonderfully  there  and  was 
good  in  all  departments  of  the  game,  and  he  im- 
proved a  hundred  per  cent,  after  he  came  to  Har- 
vard." 

Pooch  Donovan  told  me  about  the  first  day  that 
Eddie  Mahan  came  out  upon  the  Harvard  field. 
At  Cambridge,  little  is  known  by  the  head  coach 
about  a  freshman's  ability.  One  day  Haughton 
said  to  Pooch  Donovan : 

"Where  is  that  Natick  friend  of  yours?  Bring 
him  over  to  the  Stadium  and  let's  see  him 
kick." 

Donovan  got  Mahan  and  Haughton  said  to 
Mahan : 

*'Let's  see  you  kick." 

Mahan  boosted  the  ball  seventy  yards,  and 
Haughton  said: 

"What  kind  of  a  kick  is  that  ?" 

Mahan  thought  it  was  a  great  kick. 

"How  do  you  think  any  ends  can  cover  that?" 
said  Haughton. 

Mahan  thereupon  kicked  a  couple  more,  low 
ones,  but  they  went  about  as  far. 

"Who  told  you  you  could  kick?"  quoth 
Haughton.  "You  must  kick  high  enough  for 
your  ends  to  cover  the  distance." 

"Take  it  easy  and  don't  get  excited,"  Donovan 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     317 

was  whispering  to  Mahan  on  the  side.  "Take 
your  time,  Ned." 

But  Mahan  continued  kicking  from  bad  to 
worse.  Haughton  was  getting  disgusted,  and 
finally  remarked: 

"Your  ends  never  can  cover  those  punts." 

Mahan  then  kicked  one  straight  up  over  his 
head,  and  the  first  word  ever  uttered  by  him  on 
the  Harvard  field,  was  his  reply  to  Haughton; 

"I  guess  almost  any  end  can  cover  that  punt," 
he  said. 

Donovan  tells  me  that  he  used  to  carry  in  his 
pocket  a  few  blank  cartridges  for  starting  sprint- 
ers. Sitting  on  a  bench  with  some  friends,  on 
Soldiers'  Field,  one  day  he  reached  into  his  hip 
pocket  for  some  loose  tobacco.  Unconsciously 
he  stuffed  into  the  heel  of  his  pipe  a  blank  car- 
tridge that  had  become  mixed  with  the  tobacco. 
The  gun  club  was  practicing  within  hearing 
distance  of  the  field.  As  Donovan  lighted  his 
pipe  the  cartridge  went  off.  He  thought  he 
was  shot.  Leaping  to  his  feet  he  ran  down  the 
field,  his  friends  after  him. 

"I  was  surprised  at  my  own  physical  condition 
— at  my  being  able  to  stand  so  well  the  shock  of 
being  shot,"  says  Donovan  in  telling  the  story. 
"My  friends  thought  also  that  I  was  shot.  But 
when  I  slowed  up,  still  bewildered,  and  they 
caught  up  with  me,  they  were  puzzled  to  see  my 
face  covered  with  powder  marks  and  a  broken 
pipe  stem  sticking  out  of  my  mouth. 


318  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"Not  until  then  did  any  of  us  realize  what  had 
really  happened.  The  cartridge  had  grazed  my 
nose  slightly,  but  outside  of  that  I  was  all  right. 
Since  then  I  am  very  careful  what  I  put  in  my 
tobacco." 

Eddie  is  known  as  "Pooch  Donovan's  pet." 
Probably  the  bluest  time  that  Donovan  ever  had 
— in  fact,  he  says  it  was  the  bluest — was  when 
Eddie  Mahan  had  an  off-day  in  the  Stadium. 
That  was  the  day  when  Cornell  beat  Harvard. 
Mahan  himself  says  it  was  the  worst  day  he  ever 
had  in  his  life,  and  he  blames  himself. 

"It  was  just  as  things  will  come  sometimes," 
Pooch  said  to  me.  "Nobody  knows  why  they 
will  come,  but  come  they  will  once  in  a  while." 

"Burr,  the  great  Harvard  captain,"  said 
Pooch,  "was  a  natural  born  leader  of  men.  He 
knew  a  lot  of  football  and  Haughton  thought  the 
world  of  him.  Burr  went  along  finely  until  the 
last  week  of  the  season.  Then,  in  falling  on  the 
ball,  he  bruised  his  shoulder,  and  would  not  allow 
himself  to  go  into  the  Yale  game.  It  was  really 
this  display  of  good  judgment  on  his  part  that 
enabled  Harvard  to  win. 

"Too  often  a  team  has  been  handicapped  by 
the  playing  of  a  crippled  veteran.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  worst  kind  of  a  substitute  is  often 
better  than  a  crippled  player.  The  fact  that  the 
great  captain,  Burr,  stood  on  the  side  lines  while 
his  team  was  playing,  urged  his  team  mates  on  to 
greater  efforts. 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     319 

**In  this  same  game  the  opposite  side  of  this 
question  was  demonstrated.  Bobbie  Burch,  the 
Yale  captain,  who  had  been  injured  the  week 
before  the  game,  was  put  in  the  game.  His 
injury  handicapped  the  Yale  team  consider- 
ably." 

Pooch  Donovan  has  been  eight  years  at  Har- 
vard. He  has  five  gold  footballs,  which  he  prizes 
and  wears  on  his  watch  chain.  During  the  eight 
years  there  have  been  five  victories  over  Yale, 
two  ties  and  one  defeat.  Pooch  has  been  a  foot- 
ball player  himself  and  the  experience  has  made 
him  a  better  trainer. 

In  1895  he  played  on  Temple's  team  of  the 
Duquesne  Athletic  Club.  He  was  trainer  and 
half-back,  and  was  very  fond  of  the  game.  Later 
on  he  played  in  Cleveland  against  the  Chicago 
Athletic  Club,  on  whose  team  played  Heffel- 
finger,  Sport  Donnelly,  and  other  famous  knights 
of  the  gridiron. 

*'In  the  morning  we  did  everything  we  could 
to  make  the  stay  of  the  visiting  team  pleasant," 
says  Donovan,  regarding  those  days,  "but  in  the 
afternoon  it  was  different,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
game  a  fellow  couldn't  help  wondering  how  men 
could  be  so  nice  to  each  other  in  the  morning 
and  so  rough  in  the  afternoon." 

Pooch  Donovan  cannot  say  enough  in  favor  of 
Doctor  E.  H.  Nichols,  the  doctor  for  the  Harvard 
team.  Pooch's  judgment  is  endorsed  by  many  a 
Harvard  man  that  I  have  talked  to. 


320  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Keene  Fitzpatrick 

When  Biffy  Lea  was  coaching  at  the  Uni- 
versity of  Michigan  in  1901,  it  was  my  oppor- 
tunity and  privilege  to  see  something  of  Western 
football.  I  was  at  Ann  Arbor  assisting  Lea  the 
last  week  before  Michigan  played  Chicago. 
Michigan  was  defeated.  That  night  at  a  banquet 
given  to  the  Michigan  team,  there  arose  a  man  to 
respond  to  a  toast. 

His  words  were  cheering  to  the  men  and  roused 
them  out  of  the  gloom  of  despair  and  defeat  to  a 
strong  hope  for  the  coming  year.  That  man  was 
Keene  Fitzpatrick.  I  had  heard  much  about 
him,  but  now  that  I  really  had  come  to  meet  him 
I  realized  what  a  magnetic  man  he  was. 

He  knew  men  and  how  to  get  the  best  out  of 
them.  Fitzpatrick  went  from  Michigan  to  Yale, 
from  Yale  back  to  Michigan,  and  then  to  Prince- 
ton, where  Princeton  men  hope  he  will  always 
stay. 

Michigan  admirers  were  loath  to  lose  Fitz- 
patrick and  their  tribute  to  him  on  leaving  was  as 
follows : 

"The  University  of  Michigan  combination  was 
broken  yesterday  when  Keene  Fitzpatrick  an- 
nounced that  he  had  accepted  Princeton's  offer, 
to  take  effect  in  the  fall  of  1910.  He  was  trainer 
for  Michigan  for  15  years.  For  five  years  Fitz' 
has  been  sought  by  every  large  university  in  the 
East. 

"What  was  Michigan's  loss,  was  Princeton's 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     321 

gain.  He  made  men  better,  not  alone  physically, 
but  morally.  His  work  has  been  uplifting  along 
all  lines  of  university  activities.  In  character 
and  example  he  is  as  great  and  untiring  as  in  his 
teaching  and  precept.  The  final  and  definite 
knowledge  of  his  determination  to  leave  Michi- 
gan is  a  severe  blow  to  the  students  all  of  whom 
know  and  appreciate  his  work.  Next  to  Presi- 
dent Angell,  no  man  of  the  University  of  JNIich- 
igan,  in  the  last  ten  years,  has  exerted  a  more 
wholesome  influence  upon  the  students  than  has 
Keene  Fitzpatrick.  His  work  brought  him  in 
close  touch  with  the  students  and  his  influence 
over  them  for  good  has  been  wonderful.  He  is 
a  man  of  ideals  and  clean  life." 

"To  'Fitz,'  as  the  boys  called  him,  as  much  as 
to  the  great  coach  Yost  is  due  ISIichigan's  fine  rec- 
ord in  football.  His  place  will  be  hard  to  fill. 
Fitz  has  aided  morally  in  placing  athletics  on  a 
high  plane  and  in  cultivating  a  fine  spirit  of 
sportsmanship.  He  was  elected  an  honorary 
member  of  the  class  of  1913  at  Princeton.  The 
Secretary  of  the  class  wrote  him  a  letter  in  which 
he  said:  'The  senior  class  deeply  appreciates 
your  successful  efforts,  and  in  behalf  of  the  Uni- 
versity takes  this  opportunity  of  expressing  its 
indebtedness  to  you  for  the  valuable  results  which 
you  have  accomplished.'  " 

Yost  had  a  high  opinion  of  Fitzpatrick. 

"Fitz  and  I  worked  together  for  nine  years,'* 
writes  Yost.     "We  were  like  brothers  during  that 


822  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

association  at  IMichigan.  There  is  no  one  person 
who  contributed  so  much  to  the  University  of 
Michigan  as  this  great  trainer.  His  wonderful 
personahty,  his  expert  assistance  and  that  great 
optimism  of  his  stood  out  as  his  leading  qualifica- 
tions. My  association  with  him  is  one  of  the 
pleasantest  recollections  of  my  life.  He  put  the 
men  in  shape,  trained  them  and  developed  them. 
They  were  'usable'  all  the  time.  He  is  a  trainer 
who  has  his  men  in  the  finest  mental  condition 
possible.  I  don't  think  there  was  ever  a  trainer 
who  kept  men  more  fit,  physically  and  mentally, 
than  Keene  Fitzpatrick." 

There  were  in  Michigan  two  players,  brothers, 
who  were  far  apart  in  skill.  Keene  says  one  was 
of  varsity  calibre,  but  wanted  his  brother,  too,  to 
make  the  Eleven.  "Once,"  says  Keene,  "when 
we  were  going  on  a  trip,  John,  who  was  a  better 
player,  said,  'I  will  not  go  if  Joe  cannot  go,'  so 
in  order  to  get  John,  we  had  to  take  Joe." 

Fitzpatrick  tells  of  an  odd  experience  in  foot- 
ball. "In  1901  Michigan  went  out  to  Southern 
California  and  played  Leland  Stanford  Univer- 
sity at  Pasadena,  January  1.  When  the  Michi- 
gan team  left  Ann  Arbor  for  California  in  De- 
cember, it  was  12°  below  zero  and  when  they 
played  on  New  Year's  it  was  80°  at  3  p.  m." 

Stanford  was  supposed  to  have  a  big  advantage 
due  to  the  climate.  Michigan  won  by  a  score  of 
49  to  0.  Michigan  used  but  eleven  men  in  the 
game,  and  it  was  their  first  scrimmage  since 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     323 

Thanksgiving  Day.     A  funny  thing  happened 
en  route  to  Pasadena. 

"Every  time  the  train  stopped,"  said  Keene, 
"we  hustled  the  men  out  to  give  them  practice 
rimning  through  signals  and  passing  the  ball. 
Everything  went  well  until  we  arrived  in  Ogden, 
.Utah.  We  hustled  the  men  out  as  usual  for  a 
work-out,  and  in  less  than  two  minutes  the  men 
were  all  in,  lying  down  on  the  ground,  gasping 
for  breath.  We  could  not  understand  what  was 
wrong,  until  some  one  came  along  and  reminded 
us  that  we  were  in  a  very  high  altitude  and  that 
it  affected  people  who  were  not  accustomed  to  it. 
We  all  felt  better  when  we  received  that  infor- 
mation." 

Michael  J.  Sweeney 

There  are  few  trainers  in  our  prep,  schools 
who  can  match  the  record  of  Mike  Sweeney. 
He  has  been  an  important  part  of  the  Hill 
School's  athletics  for  years.  Many  of  the  tra- 
ditions of  this  school  are  grouped,  in  fact, 
about  his  personality.  Hill  School  boys  are  loud 
in  their  praises  of  Sweeney's  achievements.  He 
always  had  a  strong  hold  on  the  students  there. 
He  has  given  many  a  boy  words  of  encourage- 
ment that  have  helped  him  on  in  the  school,  and 
this  same  boy  has  come  back  to  him  in  after  life 
to  get  words  of  advice. 

JNIany  colleges  tried  to  sever  his  connection  with 
Hill  School.     I  know  that  at  one  time  Princeton 


324  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

was  very  anxious  to  get  Sweeney's  services.  He 
was  happy  at  Hill  School,  however,  and  decided 
to  stay.  It  was  there  at  Hill  School  that  Sweeney 
turned  out  some  star  athletes.  Perhaps  one  of 
the  most  prominent  was  Tom  Shevlin.  Sweeney 
saw  great  possibilities  in  Shevlin.  He  taught 
him  the  fundamentals  that  made  Shevlin  one  of 
the  greatest  ends  that  ever  played  at  Yale.  He 
typified  Sweeney's  ideal  football  player.  Shev- 
lin never  lost  an  opportunity  to  express  apprecia- 
tion of  what  Sweeney  had  done  for  him. 

Tom  gave  all  credit  for  his  athletic  ability  to 
Mike  Sweeney  of  Hill  and  Mike  Murphy  of 
Yale.  His  last  desire  for  Yale  athletics  was  to 
bring  Sweeney  to  Yale  and  have  him  installed, 
not  as  a  direct  coach  or  trainer  of  any  team,  but 
more  as  a  general  athletic  director,  connected 
with  the  faculty,  to  advise  and  help  in  all  branches 
of  college  sport. 

Tom  Shevlin  idohzed  Sweeney.  Those  who 
were  at  the  banquet  of  the  1905  team  at  Cam- 
bridge will  recall  the  tribute  that  Shevlin  then 
paid  to  him.  He  declared  that  he  regarded 
Sweeney  as  "the  world's  greatest  brain  on  all 
forms  of  athletics." 

Whenever  Mike  Sweeney  puts  his  heart  into 
his  work  he  is  one  of  the  most  completely  ab- 
sorbed men  I  know. 

Sweeney  possesses  an  uncanny  insight  into  the 
workings  of  the  games  and  individuals.     Often- 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     325 

times  as  he  sits  on  the  side  lines  he  can  foretell 
an  accident  coming  to  a  player. 

Mike  was  sitting  on  the  Yale  side  lines  one 
day,  and  remarked  to  Ed  Wylie,  a  former  Hill 
School  player — a  Yale  substitute  at  that  time: 

"They  ought  to  take  Smith  out  of  the  game; 
he  shows  signs  of  weakening.  You'd  better  go 
tell  the  trainer  to  do  it." 

But  before  Wylie  could  get  to  the  trainer,  sev- 
eral plays  had  been  run  off  and  the  man  who 
had  played  too  long  received  an  injury,  and  was 
done  for.  Sweeney's  predictions  generally  ring 
true. 

It  is  rather  remarkable,  and  especially  fortu- 
nate that  a  prep  school  should  have  such  an 
efficient  athletic  director.  For  thirteen  years 
Sweeney  acted  in  that  capacity  and  coached  all 
the  teams.  He  taught  other  men  to  teach  foot- 
baU. 

Jack  Moakley 

Had  any  one  gone  to  Ithaca  in  the  hope  of 
obtaining  the  services  of  Jack  Moakley,  the  Cor- 
nell trainer,  he  would  have  found  this  popular 
trainer's  friends  rising  up  and  showing  him  the 
way  to  the  station,  because  there  never  has  been 
a  human  being  who  could  sever  the  relations  be- 
tween Jack  Moakley  and  Cornell. 

The  record  he  has  made  with  his  track  teams 
alone  entitles  him  to  a  high  place,  if  not  the  high- 
est place,  on  the  trainer's  roll  of  honor.     To  tell 


326  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

of  his  achievements  would  fill  an  entire  chapter, 
but  as  we  are  confining  ourselves  to  football,  his 
work  in  this  department  of  Cornell  sports  stands 
on  a  par  with  any  football  trainer. 

Jack  Moakley  takes  his  work  very  seriously 
and  no  man  works  any  harder  on  the  Cornell 
squad  than  does  their  trainer.  Costello,  a  Cor- 
nell captain  of  years  ago,  relates  the  following 
incident : 

"Jack  Moakley  had  a  man  on  his  squad  who 
had  a  great  habit  of  digging  up  unusual  fads, 
generally  in  the  matter  of  diet.  At  this  particu- 
lar time  he  had  decided  to  live  solely  on  grape 
nuts.  As  he  was  one  of  the  best  men  on  the  team, 
Jack  did  not  burden  himself  with  trouble  over 
this  fad,  although  at  several  times  Moakley  told 
him  that  he  might  improve  if  he  would  eat  some 
real  food.  However,  when  this  man  started  a 
grape  nut  campaign  among  the  younger  mem- 
bers of  the  squad  he  aroused  Jack's  ire  and  upon 
his  arrival  at  the  field  house  he  wiped  the  black 
board  clean  of  all  instructions  and  in  letters  a  foot 
high  wrote: 

"They  who  eat  beef  are  beefy." 
"They  who  eat  nuts  are  nutty." 

The  resultant  kidding  finally  made  the  old 
beefsteak  popular  with  our  friend. 

Johnny  Mack 

It  would  not  seem  natural  if  one  failed  to  see 
Johnny  Mack  on  the  side  lines  where  Yale  is 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     327 

playing.  In  eleven  years  at  New  Haven  Yale 
teams  were  never  criticised  on  account  of  their 
condition.  The  physical  condition  of  the  Yale 
team  has  always  been  left  entirely  in  Johnny 
Mack's  hands,  and  the  hard  contests  that  they 
went  through  in  the  season  of  1915  were  enough 
to  worry  any  trainer.  Johnny  INIack  was  always 
optimistic. 

There  is  much  humor  in  Johnny  Mack.  It  is 
amusing  to  hear  Johnny  tell  of  the  experience 
that  he  and  Pooch  Donovan  had  in  a  Paris  res- 
taurant, and  I'm  sure  you  can  all  imagine  the 
rest.  Johnny  said  they  got  along  pretty  well 
with  their  French  until  they  ordered  potatoes  and 
the  waiters  brought  in  a  peck  of  peas. 

It  is  a  difficult  task  for  a  trainer  to  tell  whether 
a  player  is  fully  conscious  of  all  that  is  going  on 
in  a  game.  Sometimes  a  hard  tackle  or  a  blow 
on  the  head  will  upset  a  man.  Johnny  Mack 
teUs  a  story  that  illustrates  this  fact: 

"There  was  a  quarterback  working  in  the  game 
one  day.  I  thought  he  was  going  wrong.  I  said 
to  the  coach:  'I  think  something  has  happened 
to  our  quarterback.'  He  told  me  to  go  out  and 
look  him  over.  I  went  out  and  called  the  cap- 
tain to  one  side  after  I  had  permission  from  the 
Referee.  I  asked  him  if  he  thought  the  quarter- 
back was  going  right.  He  replied  that  he 
thought  he  was,  but  called  out  some  signals  to 
him  to  see  if  he  knew  them.  The  quarter  an- 
swered the  captain's  questions  after  a  fashion  and 


328  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  captain  was  satisfied,  but,  just  the  same,  he 
didn't  look  good  to  me.  I  asked  the  captain  to 
let  me  give  Viim  a  signal :  one  we  never  used,  and 
one  the  captain  did  not  even  know. 

'Said  I,   What's  this  one — 48-16-32-12?' 

"  'That's  me  through  the  right  end,'  he  said. 

"  'Xot  on  your  hfe,  old  man,'  said  I,  'that's  you 
and  me  to  the  side  lines  I' 

"I  remember  one  fall,"  says  Johnny,  "when  we 
were  very  shy  on  big  material  at  Yale.  The 
coaches  told  me  to  take  a  walk  about  the  campus 
and  hunt  up  some  big  fellows  who  might  possibly 
come  out  for  football.  While  going  along  the 
Commons  at  noon,  the  first  fellow  I  met  was  a 
big,  fine  looking  man,  a  210  pounder  at  least, 
with  big,  broad  shoulders.  I  stopped  him  and 
asked  if  he  had  ever  played  football. 

"  'Yes,'  he  said,  'I  played  a  httle  at  school. 
I'll  come  out  next  week.'  I  told  him  not  to 
bother  about  next  week,  but  to  come  out  that 
afternoon — that  I'd  meet  liim  at  the  gym'  at  one 
o'clock  and  have  some  clothes  for  him.  He  came 
at  one  o'clock  and  I  told  one  of  the  rubbers  to 
have  some  clothes  ready.  TVTien  I  came  back  at 
1 :30  and  looked  around  I  couldn't  recognize  him. 
'\\Tiere  in  the  world  is  my  big  fellow  V  1  said  to 
Jim  the  rubber. 

"  'Your  big  feUow?  ^^^j",  he  just  passed 
you,'  said  Jim. 

"  'Xo,'  said  I,  'that  can't  be  the  man;  that  must 
be  some  consumptive.' 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAIXERS     329 

"  'Just  the  sanie,  that's  your  big  fellow  in  his 
football  suit/  said  Jim.  'The  biggest  part  of  him 
is  hanging  up  in  there  on  a  nail.' 

"Some  tailors,  these  fellows  have  nowadays.'' 

Johnny  3Iack  further  tells  of  an  amusing  inci- 
dent in  Foster  Sanford's  coaching. 

''At  early  practice  in  Xew  Haven  Sanford  was 
working  the  linemen,"  says  Jolmny.  "He  picked 
a  green,  husky  looking  boy  out  of  the  line  of  can- 
didates and  was  soon  playing  against  him.  He 
didn't  know  who  Sandy  was,  and  believe  me, 
Sandy  was  handling  him  pretty  rough  to  see  what 
he  was  made  of.  The  first  thing  you  know  the 
fellow  was  talking  to  himself  and,  when  Sandy 
was  careless,  suddenly  shot  over  a  stiff  one  on 
Sandy's  face  and  yelled: 

"  'I'm  going  to  have  you  know  that  no  man's 
going  to  push  me  aroimd  this  field.' 

"Sandy  was  happy  as  could  be.  He  patted 
the  chap  on  the  back  and  roared,  'Good  stuff; 
you're  all  right.  You're  the  kind  of  a  man  I 
want.     We  can  use  men  like  you!' 

"But  Foster  Sanford  was  not  the  only  old- 
timer  who  could  take  the  young  ones'  hard 
knocks,''  says  Johnny.  "I've  seen  Heffelfinger 
come  back  to  Yale  Field  after  being  out  of  col- 
lege twenty  years  and  play  with  the  scrubs  for 
fifty-five  minutes  without  a  layoff!  I  never  saw 
a  man  with  such  endurance. 

"Ted  Coy  was  a  big.  gv^o<.l-natured  fellow.  He 
was  never  known  to  take  time  out  in  a  crame  in 


330  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  four  years  he  played  football.  In  his  senior 
year  he  didn't  play  until  the  West  Point  game. 
While  West  Point  was  putting  it  all  over  us,  Coy 
was  on  the  side  lines,  frantically  running  up  and 
down.  But  we  had  strict  instructions  from  the 
doctor  not  to  play  him,  no  matter  what  happened. 

"Suddenly  Coy  said;  'Johnny,  let  me  in. 
I'm  not  going  to  have  my  team  licked  by  this 
crowd.'    And  in  he  jumped. 

"I  saw  him  call  Philbin  up  alongside  of  him 
and  the  first  thing  I  knew  I  saw  Philbin  and  Coy 
running  up  the  field  like  a  couple  of  deer.  In 
just  three  plays  they  took  the  ball  from  our  own 
5-yard  line  to  a  touchdown.  After  that  there 
was  a  different  spirit  in  the  team.  Coy  was  an 
inspiration  to  his  players." 

"One  more  story,"  says  Johnny. 

"There  were  two  boys  at  New  Haven.  Their 
first  names  were  Jack,  and  both  were  substitutes 
on  the  scrub.  About  the  middle  of  the  second 
half  in  the  Harvard  game,  the  coach  told  me  to 
go  and  warm  up  Jack.  One  of  the  Jacks 
jumped  up,  while  the  other  Jack  sank  back  on 
the  bench  with  surprise  and  sorrow  on  his  face. 
Seeing  that  a  mistake  had  been  made,  I  said, 
*Not  you,  but  you,  Jack,'  and  pointed  to  the 
other.  As  the  right  Jack  jumped  up,  the  cloudy 
face  turned  to  sunshine,  as  only  a  football  player 
can  imagine,  and  the  sunny  smile  of  the  first 
Jack  turned  to  deepest  gloom,  an  affecting  sight 
I  shall  never  forget.'* 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     331 

"HuGGiNs  OF  Brown" 

I  know  of  no  college  trainer  who  seems  to  get 
more  pleasure  out  of  his  work  than  Huggins  of 
Brown.  There  are  numerous  incidents  that  are 
recorded  in  this  book  that  have  been  the  experi- 
ences of  this  good-natured  trainer. 

A  trainer's  life  is  not  always  a  merry  one. 
Many  things  occur  that  tend  to  worrj^  him,  but 
he  gets  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  it  just  the  same  Hug- 
gins  says : 

"Some  few  years  ago  Bro^\Ti  had  a  big  lineman 
on  its  team  who  had  never  been  to  New  York, 
where  we  went  that  year  to  meet  Carlisle.  The 
players  put  in  quite  a  bit  of  time  jollj^ing  him 
and  having  all  sorts  of  fun  at  his  expense.  We 
stopped  at  one  of  the  big  hotels,  and  the  rooms 
were  on  the  seventh  and  eighth  floors.  In  the 
rooms  were  the  rope  fire  escapes,  common  in 
those  days,  knotted  every  foot  or  so.  The  big 
lineman  asked  what  it  was  for,  and  the  other  fel- 
lows told  him,  but  added  that  this  room  was  the 
only  one  so  equipped  and  that  he  must  look  sharp 
that  none  of  the  others  helped  themselves  to  it 
for  their  protection  against  fire. 

"That  night,  as  usual,  I  was  making  my  rounds 
after  the  fellows  had  gone  to  bed.  Coming  into 
this  player's  room  I  saw  that  he  was  asleep,  but 
that  there  appeared  to  be  some  strange,  unusual 
lump  in  the  bed.  I  immediately  woke  him  to  find 
out  what  it  was.  INIuch  to  my  amusement,  I  dis- 
covered that  he  had  wound  about  fifteen  feet  of 


332  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  rope  around  his  body  and  I  had  an  awful  job 
trying  to  assure  him  that  the  boys  had  been  fool- 
ing him.  Nothing  that  I  could  say,  however, 
would  convince  him,  and  I  left  him  to  resume  his 
slumbers  with  the  rope  still  wrapped  tightly  about 
his  body." 

Huggins  not  only  believes  that  Brown  Uni- 
versity is  a  good  place  to  train,  but  he  thinks  it 
is  a  good  place  to  send  his  boy.  He  has  a  son 
who  is  a  freshman  at  Brown  as  I  write.  Hug- 
gins  went  to  Brown  in  the  fall  of  1896,  as  trainer. 
Here  is  another  good  Huggins  story: 

"Sprackling,  our  All- American  quarterback  of 
a  few  years  ago,  always  had  his  nerve  with  him 
and,  however  tight  the  place,  generally  managed 
to  get  out  with  a  whole  skin.  But  I  recall  one 
occasion  when  the  wind  was  taken  out  of  his 
sails;  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  say  or  how  to 
act.  We  were  talking  over  prospects  on  the 
steps  in  front  of  the  Brown  Union  one  morn- 
ing just  before  college  opened,  the  fall  that  he 
was  captain,  when  a  young  chap  came  up  and 
said: 

"  'Are  you  Sprackling,  Captain  of  the  Team?' 

"  'That's  me,'  replied  Sprack. 

"  'Well,  I'm  coming  out  for  quarterback,'  the 
young  man  declared,  'and  I  expect  to  make  it. 
I  can  run  the  100  in  ten-one  and  the  220  in  evens 
and  I'm  a  good  quarterback.  I'm  going  to  beat 
you  out  of  your  job.' 

"Sprack,  for  once  in  his  life,  was  flustered  to 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     333 

death.  When  several  of  the  boys  who  were 
nearby  and  had  heard  the  conversation,  began  to 
laugh,  he  grew  red  in  the  face  and  quickly  got 
up  and  walked  away  without  a  word.  But  be- 
fore I  could  recover  myself,  the  promising  candi- 
date had  disappeared." 

Harry  Tuthill,  specialist  in  knees  and  ankles, 
was  the  first  trainer  West  Point  ever  had. 
When  he  turned  up  at  the  Academy  he  was  none 
too  sure  that  a  football  was  made  of  leather  and 
blown  up. 

He  got  his  job  at  the  Point  through  the  ban- 
daging of  Ty  Cobb's  ankle.  An  Army  coach 
saw  him  do  it  and  said: 

"Harry,  if  you  can  do  that,  the  way  you  do  it, 
come  to  West  Point  and  do  it  for  us." 

Tuthill  was  none  too  welcome  to  the  authori- 
ties other  than  the  football  men.  In  the  eyes 
of  the  superintendent  every  cadet  was  fit  to  do 
anything  that  might  be  required  of  him. 

"You've  got  to  make  good  with  the  Supe,"  said 
the  coaches. 

So  Harry  went  out  and  watched  the  dress 
parade  and  the  ensuing  double  time  review. 
After  the  battalion  was  dismissed,  Tuthill  was 
introduced  to  the  Superintendent. 

"Well,  Mr.  Tuthill,"  said  the  Superintendent, 
"I'm  glad  to  meet  you,  but  I  really  do  not  see 
what  we  need  of  a  trainer." 

Harrj^  shifted  his  feet  and  gathering  courage 
blurted  out: 


334  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"Run  those  boys  around  again  and  then  ask 
them  to  whistle." 

There  are  many  other  trainers  who  deserve 
mention  in  this  chapter,  men  who  are  earnestly 
and  loyally  giving  up  their  lives  to  the  training 
of  the  young  men  in  our  different  colleges,  but 
space  will  not  permit  to  take  up  any  more  of  these 
interesting  characters.  Their  tribute  must  be  a 
silent  one,  not  only  from  myself  but  from  the 
undergraduates  and  graduates  of  the  colleges  to 
which  they  belong  and  upon  whose  shoulders 
are  heaped  year  after  year  honors  which  are  due 
them. 

FIRST   DOCTOR   IN    CHARGE   OF   ANY   TEAM 

Doctor  W.  M.  Conant,  Harvard  '79,  says: 
"I  believe  I  was  the  first  doctor  associated 
with  the  Harvard  team,  and  so  far  as  I  know,  the 
first  doctor  who  was  in  charge  of  any  team  at 
any  college.  At  Harvard  this  custom  has  been 
kept  up.  I  was  requested  by  Arthur  Cumnock, 
who  had  been  beaten  the  previous  year  by  Yale, 
to  come  out  and  help  him  win  a  game.  This  I 
consented  to  do  provided  I  had  absolute  control 
of  the  medical  end  of  the  team,  which  consisted 
not  only  of  taking  care  of  the  men  who  were  in- 
jured, but  also  of  their  diet.  This  has  since  been 
taken  up  by  the  trainer. 

"The  late  George  Stewart  and  the  late  George 
Adams  were  the  coaches  in  charge  that  year,  and 


OUR  GOOD  OLD  TRAINERS     335 

my  recollections  of  some  of  the  difficulties  that 
arose  because  of  new  methods  are  very  enjoyable 
— even  at  this  late  daj\  So  far  as  I  know  this 
was  the  first  season  men  were  played  in  the  same 
position  opposite  one  another.  In  other  words, 
there  was  an  attempt  to  form  a  second  eleven — 
which  is  now  a  well  recognized  condition. 

"I  had  a  house  built  under  the  grandstand 
where  every  man  from  our  team  was  stripped, 
rubbed  dry  and  put  into  a  new  suit  of  clothes, 
also  given  a  certain  amount  of  hot  drink  as 
seemed  necessary.  This  was  a  thing  which  had 
never  been  done  before,  and  in  my  opinion  had  a 
large  influence  in  deciding  the  game  in  Harvard's 
favor;  as  the  men  went  out  upon  the  field  in  the 
second  half  almost  as  fresh  as  when  they  started 
the  first  half. 

"I  remember  that  I  had  not  seen  a  victory  over 
Yale  since  I  was  graduated  from  college  in  1879. 
Some  of  the  suggestions  that  I  made  about  the 
time  men  should  be  played  were  laughed  at. 
The  standpoint  I  took  was  that  a  man  should  not 
be  allowed  by  the  coach  to  play  until  he  was 
deemed  fit.  The  physician  in  charge  was  also 
a  matter  of  serious  discussion.  ]Many  of  these 
points  are  now  so  well  established  that  to  the 
present  generation  it  is  hardly  possible  to  make 
them  realize  that  from  1890  to  1895  it  was  neces- 
sary to  make  a  fight  to  establish  certain  well- 
known  methods. 

"What  would  the  present  football  man  think 


336  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

of  being  played  for  one  and  one-half  hours 
whether  he  was  in  shape  or  not?  The  present 
football  man  does  not  appreciate  what  some  of 
the  older  college  graduates- went  through  in  or- 
der to  bring  about  the  present  reasonable  meth- 
ods adopted  in  handling  the  game." 


in 
O 

o 

H 

m 

H 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
NIGHTMARES 

THERE  are  few  players  who  never  expe- 
rienced defeat  in  football.  At  such  a 
time  sadness  reigns.  JNIen  who  are  big 
in  mind  and  body  have  broken  down  and  cried 
bitterly.  How  often  in  our  experience  have  we 
seen  men  taken  out  of  the  game  leaving  it  as 
though  their  hearts  would  break,  only  to  go  to 
the  side  lines,  and  there  through  dimmed  eyes 
view  the  inevitable  defeat,  realizing  that  they  were 
no  longer  a  factor  in  the  struggle.  Such  an  ex- 
perience came  to  Frank  Morse  in  that  savage 
Penn-Princeton  game  of  years  ago  at  Trenton. 
He  had  given  of  his  best;  he  played  a  wonder- 
ful game,  but  through  an  injury  he  had  to  be 
removed  to  the  side  lines.  Let  this  gi*eat  hero 
of  the  past  tell  us  something  about  the  pangs  of 
defeat  as  he  summons  them  to  mind  in  his  San 
Francisco  office  after  an  interval  of  twenty-two 
years. 

"The  average  American  university  football 
player  takes  his  defeats  too  seriously — in  the 
light  of  my  retrospect — much  too  seriously," 
writes  ^lorse.     "As  my  memory  harks  back  to 

*337 


338  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  blubbering  bunch  of  stalwart  young  manhood 
that  rent  the  close  air  of  the  dressing-room  with 
its  dismal  howls  after  each  of  the  five  defeats  in 
which  I  participated,  I  am  convinced  that  this  is 
not  what  the  world  expects  of  strong  men  in  the 
hour  of  adversity. 

"A  stiff  upper  lip  is  what  the  world  admires, 
and  it  will  extend  the  hand  of  s^mipathy  and  help 
to  the  man  who  can  wear  it.  This  should  be 
taught  by  football  coaches  to  their  men  as  a  part 
of  the  lessons  of  life  that  football  generally  is 
credited  with  teaching. 

"Alex  ^loffat,  than  whom  no  more  loyal  and 
enthusiastic  Princetonian  ever  hved,  to  my  mind, 
had  the  right  idea.  During  one  of  those  periods 
of  abysmal  depths  of  despondency  into  which  a 
losing  team  is  plunged,  he  rushed  into  the  room, 
waving  his  arms  over  liis  head  in  his  characteristic 
manner,  and  in  liis  high-pitched  voice  yelled: 

"  'Here,  boys,  get  do-s^ii  to  work ;  cut  out  this 
crying  and  get  to  cussing.' 

"Doubtless  much  of  this  was  due  to  the  strain 
and  the  high  tension  to  which  the  men  were  sub- 
jected, but  much  of  it  was  mere  lack  of  effort  at 
restraint. 

"Johimy  Poe,  as  stout-hearted  a  man  as  ever 
has,  or  ever  will  stand  on  a  football  field,  once 
said  to  me: 

"  'This  sob  stuff  gives  me  a  pain  in  the  neck 
but,  like  sea-sickness,  when  the  rest  of  the  crowd 
start  business,  it's  hard  to  keep  out  of  it.     Be- 


NIGHTMARES  339 

sides,  I  don't  suppose  there's  any  use  getting  the 
reputation  of  being  exclusive  and  too  stuck  up 
to  do  what  the  rest  of  the  gang  do.' 

"Of  the  defeats  in  which  I  participated,  prob- 
ably none  was  more  disheartening  than  the  one 
suffered  at  the  hands  of  the  University  of  Penn- 
sylvania in  1892  at  the  Manheim  cricket  grounds 
near  Philadelphia.  I  shall  always  believe  that 
the  better  Princeton  team  would  have  won  with 
comparative  ease  had  it  not  been  for  the  wind. 
In  no  game  in  which  I  ever  played  was  the  wind 
so  largely  the  deciding  factor  in  the  result.  The 
flags  on  the  poles  along  the  stands  stood  out  stiffly 
as  they  snapped  in  the  half  gale. 

"Pennsylvania  won  the  toss  and  elected  to 
have  the  wind  at  their  backs.  For  forty-five 
minutes  every  effort  made  against  the  Red  and 
Blue  was  more  than  nullified  by  the  blustering 
god  ^olus.  When  Pennsylvania  kicked,  it  was 
the  rule  and  not  the  exception  for  the  ball  to  go 
sailing  for  from  one-half  to  three  quarters  the 
length  of  the  field.  On  the  other  hand,  I  can  see 
in  my  mind's  eye  to-day,  as  clearly  as  I  did  dur- 
ing the  game,  a  punt  by  Sheppard  Homans,  the 
Princeton  fullback,  which  started  over  the  bat- 
thng  lines  into  Pennsylvania  territor}^  slowed 
up,  hung  for  an  instant  in  the  air  and  then  was 
swept  back  to  a  point  approximating  the  line 
from  where  it  started. 

"It  was  the  most  helpless  and  exasperating 
feeling  that  I  ever  experienced.     The  football 


340  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

player  who  can  conceive  of  a  game  in  which  un- 
der no  circumstances  was  it  permissible  to  kick, 
but  instead  provided  a  penalty,  can  perhaps  ap- 
preciate the  circumstances. 

"In  the  second  half,  when  we  changed  goals, 
the  flags  hung  limply  against  their  staffs,  but  we 
had  spent  ourselves  in  the  unequal  contest  during 
the  first  half." 

Nightmares,  even  those  of  football,  do  not  al- 
ways beget  sympathy.  Upon  occasion  a  deal  of 
fun  is  poked  at  the  victim,  and  this  holds  true 
even  in  the  family  circle. 

Tom  Shevlin  was  noted  as  the  father  of  a  great 
many  good  stories,  but  it  was  proverbial  that  he 
refrained  from  telling  one  upon  himself.  How- 
ever, in  at  least  one  instance  he  deviated  from 
habit  to  the  extent  of  relating  an  incident  con- 
cerning his  father  and  the  father  of  Charlie 
Rafferty,  captain  of  the  Yale  1903  eleven.  Tom 
at  the  time  was  a  sophomore,  and  Shevlin,  senior, 
who  idolized  his  son,  made  it  a  practice  of  attend- 
ing all  important  contests  in  which  he  partici- 
pated, came  on  from  Minneapolis  in  his  private 
car  to  witness  the  spectacle  of  Tom's  single- 
handed  defeat  of  "The  Princetons."  As  it 
chanced  the  Shevlin  car  was  put  upon  a  siding 
adjoining  that  on  which  the  car  of  Gill  Rafferty 
lay.  Rafferty,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  was  making 
his  laborious  way  down  the  steps  as  Mr.  Shevlin 
emerged  from  his  car.  INIr.  Rafferty  looked  up, 
blinked   in   the   November   sunlight   and   then 


NIGHTMARES  341 

nodded  cheerfully.  "Well,  Shevlin,"  he  said,  "I 
suppose  by  to-night  we'll  be  known  simply  as  the 
fathers  of  two  great  Yale  favorites."  Shevlin 
nodded  and  said  "he  fancied  such  would  be  the 
case."  A  few  hours  later,  in  the  gloom  of  the 
twilight,  after  Yale  had  been  defeated,  the  elder 
Shevlin  was  finding  his  somber  way  to  the 
steps  of  his  car  and  met  Rafferty  face  to  face. 
Shevlin  nodded  and  was  about  to  pass  on  with- 
out speaking,  when  Rafferty  placed  his  hand 
upon  his  shoulder.  "Well,  Shevlin,"  he  said  sol- 
emnly, "I  see  we  are  still  old  man  Shevlin  and 
old  man  Rafferty." 

W.  C.  Rhodes 

One  has  only  to  hear  Jim  Rodgers  tell  the 
story  of  Billy  Rhodes  to  realize  how  deeply  the 
iron  of  football  disaster  sinks  into  the  soul. 

"Rhodes  was  captain  of  the  losing  team  in  the 
fall  of  '90,  when  Yale's  Eleven  was  beaten  by 
Harvard's,"  Rodgers  tells  us.  "Arthur  Cum- 
nock was  the  Harvard  captain,  and  the  score  was 
12  to  6.  Two  remarkable  runs  for  touchdowns 
made  by  Dudley  Dean  and  Jim  Lee  decided  the 
contest. 

"For  twenty  years  aftenvards,  back  to  Spring- 
field, New  Haven  or  Cambridge,  wherever 
the  Yale-Harvard  games  were  played,  came 
with  the  regularity  of  their  occurrence,  Billy 
Rhodes. 

"He  was  to  be  seen  the  night  before,  and  the 


342  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

morning  of  the  game.  He  always  had  his  tickets 
for  the  side  hne  and  wore  the  badge  as  an  ex- 
Yale  captain.  But  the  game  itself  Billy  Rhodes 
never  saw. 

"If  at  Springfield,  he  was  to  be  found  in  the 
Massasoit  House,  walking  the  floor  until  the 
result  of  the  game  was  known.  If  at  New  Ha- 
ven, he  was  not  at  the  Yale  Field.  He  walked 
around  the  field  and  out  into  the  woods.  If  the 
game  was  at  Cambridge,  he  was  not  at  Holmes 
Field,  or  later,  at  Soldiers'  Field. 

"When  the  game  was  over  he  would  join  in  the 
celebration  of  victory,  or  sink  into  the  misery  of 
defeat,  as  the  case  might  be.  But  he  never  could 
witness  a  game.  The  sting  of  defeat  had  left  its 
permanent  wound." 

A   YALE   NIGHTMARE 

Those  who  saw  the  Army  defeat  Yale  at  West 
Point  in  1904  must  realize  what  a  blow  it  was  to 
the  Blue.  The  first  score  came  as  a  result  of  a 
blocked  kick  by  West  Point,  which  was  recovered 
by  Erwin,  who  picked  up  the  ball  and  dashed 
across  the  line  for  a  touchdown.  The  Army 
scored  the  second  time  when  Torney  cut  loose 
and  ran  105  yards  for  a  touchdown. 

Sam  Morse,  captain  of  the  Yale  1906  team, 
who  played  right  halfback  in  this  game,  tells  how 
the  nightmare  of  defeat  may  come  upon  us  at 
any  time,  even  in  the  early  season,  and  inci- 
dentally how  it  may  have  its  compensations. 


NIGHTMARES  343 

"An  instance  of  the  psychology  of  football  is 
to  be  found  in  the  fall  of  1904,  when  Jim  Hogan 
was  captain  of  the  Yale  team,"  says  Morse.  "I 
had  the  pleasure  of  playing  back  of  him  on  the 
defensive  in  almost  every  game  of  that  year,  and 
I  got  to  depend  so  much  on  those  bull-like 
charges  of  his  that  I  fear  that  if  I  had  been 
obliged  to  play  back  of  some  one  else  my  playing 
would  have  been  of  inferior  quality. 

"Yale  had  a  fine  team  that  year,  defeating 
both  Harvard  and  Princeton  with  something  to 
spare.  The  only  eleven  that  scored  on  us  was 
West  Point,  and  they  beat  us.  It  is  a  strange 
thing  that  the  Cadets  always  seem  to  give  Yale 
a  close  game,  as  in  that  year  even  though  beaten 
by  both  Harvard  and  Princeton  by  safe  scores, 
and  even  though  Yale  beat  Harvard  and  Prince- 
ton handily,  the  Ai^my  played  us  to  a  standstill. 

"After  the  game,  as  is  so  often  the  case  when 
men  have  played  themselves  out,  there  was  a  good 
deal  of  sobbing  and  a  good  many  real  tears  were 
shed.  Every  man  who  has  played  football  will 
appreciate  that  there  are  times  when  it  is  a  very 
common  matter  for  even  a  big  husky  man  to 
weep.  We  were  all  in  the  West  Point  dressing- 
room  when  Jim  Hogan  arose.  He  felt  what  we 
all  took  to  be  a  disgrace  more  keenly  than  any 
of  us.  There  was  no  shake  in  his  voice,  however, 
or  any  tears  in  his  eyes  when  he  bellowed  at  us 
to  stop  blubbering. 

"  'Don't  feel  sorry  for  yourselves.     I  hope  this 


344  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

thing  will  hurt  us  all  enough  so  that  we  will  profit 
by  it.  It  isn't  a  matter  to  cry  over — it's  a  matter 
to  analyze  closely  and  to  take  into  yourself  and 
to  digest,  and  finally  to  prevent  its  happening 
again/ 

*'He  drove  it  home  as  only  Jim  Hogan  could. 
At  the  close  Ralph  Bloomer  jumped  to  his  feet 
and  cried: 

"  'Jim,  old  man,  we  are  with  you,  and  you  are 
right  about  it,  and  we  will  wipe  this  thing  out  in 
a  way  which  will  satisfy  you  and  all  the  rest  of 
the  college.' 

"The  whole  team  followed  him.  Right  then 
and  there  that  aggregation  became  a  Yale  foot- 
ball team  in  the  proper  sense,  and  one  of  the 
greatest  Yale  football  teams  that  ever  played. 
It  was  the  game  followed  by  Jim's  speech  that 
made  the  eleven  men  a  unit  for  victory. 

"If  Jim  had  been  allowed  to  live  a  few  more 
years  the  quality  of  leadership  that  he  possessed 
would  have  made  of  him  a  very  prominent  and 
powerful  man.  His  memory  is  one  of  the  dear- 
est things  to  all  of  us  who  were  team  mates  or 
friends  of  his,  but  I  hardly  ever  think  of  him 
without  picturing  him  that  particular  day  in  the 
dressing-room  at  West  Point,  when  in  five  min- 
utes he  made  of  eleven  men  a  really  great  foot- 
ball team." 

Even  Eddie  Mahan  is  not  immune  to  the 
haunting  memory  of  defeat,  and  perhaps  because 
of  the  very  fact  that  disaster  came  into  his  bril- 


NIGHTMARES  345 

liant  gridiron  career  only  once,  and  then  in  his 
senior  year,  it  hit  him  hard.  The  manner  of  its 
telling  by  this  great  player  is  sufficient  proof  of 
that.     Here  is  Eddie's  story: 

"I  enjoyed  my  football  days  at  Harvard  so 
well  that  I  would  like  to  go  back  each  fall  and 
play  football  for  the  rest  of  my  life.  I  wish  to 
goodness  I  could  go  back  and  play  just  one  game 
over — that  is  the  Cornell  game  of  1915.  My 
freshman  team  won  all  its  games,  and  during  the 
three  years  that  I  played  for  the  Harvard  Var- 
sity I  never  figured  in  a  losing  game  except  that 
one.  Cornell  beat  Harvard  10  to  0.  The  score 
of  that  game  will  haunt  me  all  my  life  long. 
This  game  has  been  a  nightmare  to  me  ever  since. 
Every  time  I  think  of  football  that  game  is  one 
of  the  first  things  that  comes  to  mind.  I  fum- 
bled a  lot.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  couldn't 
seem  to  hold  onto  the  ball. 

*'We  blocked  four  kicks,  but  Cornell  recovered 
every  one.  We  sort  of  felt  that  there  was  more 
than  the  Cornell  team  playing  against  us — a  goal 
from  the  field  and  a  touchdown.  Shiverick,  of 
Cornell,  stands  out  in  my  recollection  of  that 
game.  He  was  a  good  kicker.  Once  he  had  to 
kick  out  from  behind  the  goal  post  do^vn  in  his 
own  territory.  Watson  and  I  were  both  lajnng 
for  a  line  buck;  playing  up  close.  Shiverick 
kicked  one  over  my  head,  out  of  bounds  at  his 
own  45-yard  line. 

"I  felt  hke  a  burglar  after  tliis  game,  because 


346  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

I  felt  that  I  had  lost  it.  I  was  feeling  pretty- 
blue  until  the  Monday  after  the  game,  when  the 
coaches  picked  eleven  men  as  the  Varsity  team, 
and  just  as  soon  as  they  sent  these  eleven  men 
to  a  section  of  the  field  to  get  acquainted  with 
each  other — that  was  the  beginning  of  team  work. 
From  the  way  those  fellows  went  at  it  that  day, 
and  from  the  spirit  they  showed,  we  felt  that 
no  team  could  ever  lick  us  again,  neither  Prince- 
ton nor  Yale.  The  Cornell  game  acted  like  a 
tonic  on  the  whole  crowd.  Instead  of  disheart- 
ening the  team  it  instilled  in  us  determination. 
We  said: 

"  'We  know  what  it  is  to  be  licked,  and  we'll 
be  damned  if  we'll  be  licked  again.'  " 

Jack  de  Saulles'  football  ambitions  were  real- 
ized when  he  made  the  Yale  team  at  quarterback, 
the  position  which  his  brother  Charlie,  before  him, 
had  occupied.  His  spectacular  runs,  his  able 
generalship,  his  abihty  to  handle  punts,  coupled 
with  that  characteristic  de  Saulles'  grit,  made 
him  a  famous  player. 

Let  this  game  little  quarterback  tell  his  own 
story : 

"Billy  Bull  and  I  have  often  discussed  the  fact 
that  when  an  attempt  for  a  goal  from  the  field 
failed,  one  of  the  players  of  the  opposing  side  al- 
ways touched  the  ball  back  of  the  goal  line 
(thereby  making  it  dead),  and  brought  it  out 
to  the  25-yard  line  to  kick.  Of  course,  the  ball 
is  never  dead  until  it  is  touched  down.     It  was  in 


NIGHTMARES  847 

the  fall  of  1902  when  we  were  playing  West 
Point.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  second  half 
of  that  game,  with  the  score  6  to  6,  Charlie  Daly 
attempted  a  field  goal,  which  was  unsuccessful. 
What  Billy  Bull  and  I  had  discussed  many  times 
came  into  my  mind  like  a  flash.  I  picked  the 
ball  up  and  walked  out  with  it  as  if  it  had  been 
touched  back  of  the  goal.  When  I  passed  the 
25-yard  line,  walking  along  casually,  Bucky  Vail, 
who  was  the  referee,  yelled  to  me  to  stop.  I 
walked  over  to  him  unconcerned  and  said: 
*Bucky,  old  boy!  this  ball  is  not  dead,  because  I 
did  not  touch  it  down.  And  I  am  going  down 
the  field  with  it.'  By  that  time  the  West  Point 
men  had  taken  their  positions  in  order  to  receive 
the  kick  from  the  25-yard  line.  While  I  was 
still  walking  down  the  field,  in  order  to  pass  all 
the  West  Point  men,  before  making  my  dash  for 
a  certain  touchdown,  it  struck  Bucky  Vail  that  I 
was  right,  and  he  yelled  out  at  the  top  of  his 
voice.  'The  ball  is  not  dead.  It  is  free.' 
Whereupon  the  West  Point  men  started  after 
me.  An  Army  man  tackled  me  on  their  25- 
yard  line,  after  I  had  taken  the  ball  down  the 
field  for  nearly  a  touchdown.  I  have  often 
turned  over  in  my  bed  at  night  since  that  time, 
cursing  the  action  of  Referee  Vail.  If  he  had 
not  interfered  with  my  play  I  would  have  walked 
do^vn  the  field  for  a  touchdown  and  victory  for 
Yale.     The  final  score  remained  6  to  6. 

*'I  have  often  thought  of  the  painful  hours  I 


348  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

would  have  suffered  had  I  missed  the  two  open 
field  chances  in  the  disastrous  game  at  Cam- 
bridge in  the  fall  of  1902,  when  Yale  was  beaten 
23  to  0.  On  two  different  occasions  in  that  game 
a  Harvard  runner  with  interference  had  passed 
the  whole  Yale  team.  I  was  the  only  Yale  man 
between  the  Harvard  man  and  a  touchdown. 
The  supreme  satisfaction  I  had  in  nailing  both 
of  those  runners  is  one  of  the  most  pleasant  recol- 
lections of  my  football  career. 

*'When  I  was  a  little  shaver,  back  in  1889,  I 
lived  at  South  Bethlehem,  Pa.  Paul  Dashiell 
and  Mathew  McClung,  who  were  then  playing 
football  at  Lehigh  University,  took  an  interest 
in  me.  Paul  Dashiell  took  me  to  the  first  foot- 
ball game  I  ever  saw.  Dibby  McClung  gave 
me  one  of  the  old  practice  balls  of  the  Lehigh 
team.  This  was  the  first  football  I  ever  had  in 
my  hands.  For  weeks  afterwards  that  football 
was  my  nightly  companion  in  bed.  These  two 
Lehigh  stars  have  always  been  my  football  he- 
roes, and  it  was  a  happy  day  for  me  when  I 
played  quarterback  on  the  Yale  team  and  these 
two  men  acted  as  officials  that  day." 


o^■E  sti:.M':  .\l\  eh  photographed  in  football 


CHAPTER  XIX 
MEN  WHO  COACHED 

THE  picture  on  the  opposite  page  will  re- 
call to  mind  many  a  serious  moment  in 
the  career  of  men  who  coached;  when 
something  had  gone  wrong;  when  some  player 
had  not  come  up  to  expectation;  when  a  combi- 
nation of  poor  judgment  and  ill  luck  was  threat- 
ening to  throw  away  the  results  of  a  season's 
work.  Such  scenes  are  never  photographed,  but 
they  are  preserved  no  less  indelibly  in  the  minds 
of  all  who  have  played  this  role. 

Where  is  the  old  football  player,  who,  gazing 
at  this  picture,  will  not  be  carried  back  to  those 
days  that  will  never  come  again;  hours  when 
you  listened  perhaps  guiltily  to  the  stinging 
words  of  the  coach ;  moments  when  spurred  on  by 
the  thunder  and  lightning  of  his  wrath  you  could 
hardly  wait  to  get  out  upon  the  field  to  grapple 
with  your  opponents.  At  such  times,  all  that 
was  worth  while  seemed  to  surge  up  within  you, 
fiercely  demanding  a  chance,  while  if  you  were 
a  coach  you  yearned  to  get  into  the  game,  only 
to  realize  as  the  team  trotted  out  on  the  field 
that  yours  was  no  longer  a  playing  part.     All 

349 


350  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

you  could  expect  henceforth  would  be  to  walk 
nervously  up  and  down  the  side  line  with  chills 
and  thrills  alternating  along  your  spine. 

There  were  no  coaches  in  the  old  days.  Foot- 
ball history  relates  that  in  the  beginning  fellows 
who  wanted  fun  and  exercise  would  chip  in  and 
buy  a  leather  cover  for  a  beef  bladder.  It  was 
necessary  to  have  a  supply  of  these  bladders  on 
hand,  for  stout  kicks  frequently  burst  them. 

In  those  days  the  ball  was  tossed  up  in  the  air 
and  all  hands  rushed  for  it.  There  was  no  or- 
ganization then,  very  few  rules,  and  the  football 
players  developed  themselves. 

To-day  the  old-time  player  stands  on  the  side 
lines  and  hears  the  coach  yelling: 

"Play  hard!  FaU  on  the  ball!  Tackle  low! 
Start  quick!     Charge  hard  and  fast!" 

As  far  as  the  fundamentals  go,  the  game  seems 
to  him  much  the  same,  but  when  he  begins  to 
recollect  he  sees  how  far  it  has  really  progressed. 
He  recalls  how  the  football  coach  became  a  reality 
and  how  a  teacher  of  football  appeared  upon  the 
gridiron. 

Better  coaching  systems  were  installed  as  foot- 
ball progressed.  Rules  were  expanded,  trainers 
crept  in,  intercollegiate  games  were  scheduled 
and  competition  and  keen  rivalry  developed 
everywhere.  In  fact,  the  desire  to  win  has  be- 
come so  firmly  established  in  the  minds  of  college 
men  that  we  now  have  a  finished  product  in  our 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  351 

great  American  game  of  football — wonderfully 
attractive,  but  very  expensive. 

Competition  has  grovi^n  to  such  an  extent  that 
our  coaching  systems  of  to-day  resemble,  in  a 
way,  the  plans  for  national  preparedness — 
costly,  but  apparently  necessary.  All  this  means 
that  the  American  football  man,  like  the  Ameri- 
can captain  of  industry,  or  the  American  pioneer 
in  any  field  of  activity,  is  never  content  to  stand 
still.     His  motto  is,  "Ever  Onward." 

It  is  not  always  the  star  player  that  makes  the 
greatest  coach.  The  mediocre  man  is  quite 
hkely  to  have  absorbed  as  much  football  teaching 
abihty  as  the  star;  and  when  his  opportunity 
comes  to  coach,  he  sometimes  gets  more  out  of 
the  men  than  the  man  with  the  big  reputation. 

Personality  counts  in  coaching.  In  addition 
to  a  coach's  keen  sense  of  football,  there  must  be 
a  strong  personality  around  which  the  players 
may  rally.     All  this  inspires  confidence. 

It  is  a  joy  for  a  coach  to  work  with  good  ma- 
terial— the  real  foundation  of  success.  The 
rules  of  to-day,  however,  give  what,  under  old 
standards,  was  the  weaker  team  a  much  broader 
opportunity  for  victory  over  physically  larger 
and  stronger  opponents. 

But  there  are  days  nevertheless  when  every 
coach  gets  discouraged;  times  when  there  is  no 
response  from  the  men  he  is  coaching — when 
tlieir  slowness  of  mind  and  body  seem  to  justify 


352  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

the  despair  of  Charlie  Daly  who  said  to  his 
team: 

"You  fellows  are  made  of  crockery  from  the 
neck  down  and  ivory  from  the  neck  up." 

Football  is  fickle.  To-day  you  may  be  a  hero. 
After  the  last  game  you  may  be  carried  off  on 
the  shoulders  of  enthusiastic  admirers  and  dined 
and  wined  by  hosts  of  friends;  but  across  the 
field  there  is  a  grim  faced  coach  who  may  al- 
ready be  scheming  out  a  play  for  next  year  which 
will  snatch  you  back  from  the  "Hall  of  Fame" 
and  make  your  friends  describe  you  sadly  as  a 
"back-number." 

Haughton  arrived  at  Harvard  at  the  psycho- 
logical moment.  Harvard  had  passed  through 
many  distressing  years  playing  for  the  football 
supremacy.  He  found  something  to  build  upon, 
because,  although  the  game  at  Cambridge  was 
in  the  doldrums,  there  had  been  keen  and  capable 
coaching  in  the  past. 

Prominent  among  those  who  have  worked  hard 
for  Harvard  and  whose  work  has  been  more  than 
welcome,  are  Arthur  Cumnock,  that  brilliant  end 
rush,  George  Stewart,  Doctor  William  A. 
Brooks,  a  former  Harvard  captain,  Lewis,  Up- 
ton, John  Cranston,  Deland,  Hallowell, 
Thatcher,  Forbes,  Waters,  Newell,  Dibblee,  Bill 
Reid,  Mike  Farley,  Josh  Crane,  Charlie  Daly, 
Pot  Graves,  Leo  Leary,  and  others  well  versed  in 
the  game  of  football. 

Haughton  had  had  some  experience  not  only 


MEIS^  WHO  COACHED  353 

in  coaching  at  Cambridge  but  coaching  at  Cor- 
nell, and  the  Harvard  football  authorities  real- 
ized that  of  all  the  Harvard  graduates  Haughton 
would  probably  be  the  best  man  to  turn  the  tide 
in  Harvard  football. 

Percy,  who  played  tackle  on  a  winning  Crim- 
son eleven,  and  Sam  Felton  will  be  well  remem- 
bered as  the  fastest  pmiters  of  their  day. 

The  first  Harvard  team  coached  by  Haugh- 
ton defeated  Yale.  It  was  in  1908  when  Haugh- 
ton used  a  spectacular  method,  when  he  rushed 
Vic  Kennard  into  the  Crimson  back  field  after 
Ver  Wiebe  had  brought  the  ball  up  the  field 
where  Haughton's  craft  sent  Vic  Kennard  in  to 
make  the  winning  three  points  and  Kennard 
himself  will  tell  the  story  of  that  game.  The 
next  year  Percy  Haughton's  team  could  not  de- 
feat the  great  Ted  Coy,  who  kicked  two  goals 
from  the  field. 

The  performance  of  the  Harvard  1908  team 
was  the  more  remarkable  because  Burr,  who  was 
the  captain  and  the  great  punter  at  that  time, 
had  been  injured  and  the  team  was  without  his 
services.  How  well  I  remember  him  on  the  side 
lines  keenly  following  the  play,  but  brilliant  in 
his  self-denial. 

There  have  been  times  when  victories  did  not 
come  to  Harvard  with  the  regularity  that  they 
have  under  the  Haughton  regime,  but  the  scales 
go  up  and  down  year  by  year,  game  by  game, 
and  from  defeats  we  learn  much. 


354  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Let  us  read  what  this  premier  coach  says  upon 
reflection : 

"Surely  the  game  of  football  brings  out  the 
best  there  is  in  one.  Aside  from  the  mental  and 
physical  exercise,  the  game  develops  that  inesti- 
mable quality  of  doing  one's  best  under  pressure. 
What  better  training  for  the  game  of  life  than 
the  acid  test  of  a  championship  game.  Such  a 
test  comes  not  alone  to  the  player  but  to  the 
coach  as  well. 

"What  truer  and  finer  friends  can  one  have 
than  those  whom  we  have  met  through  the  me- 
dium of  football!  And  finally  as  the  years  tend 
to  narrow  this  precious  list,  through  death,  what 
greater  privilege  than  to  associate  with  the  fel- 
low whose  muscles  are  lithe  and  whose  mind  is 
clean.  Such  a  man  was  Francis  H.  Burr,  cap- 
tain of  the  Harvard  team  in  1908.  Words  fail 
me  to  express  my  sincere  regard  for  that  gallant 
leader.  His  spirit  still  lives  at  Cambridge;  his 
type  we  miss. 

"I  am  proud  of  the  men  who  worked  shoulder 
to  shoulder  in  bringing  about  Harvard  victories. 
The  list  is  a  long  one.  I  shall  always  cherish 
the  hearty  co-operation  of  these  men  who  gave 
their  best  for  Harvard." 

It  was  Al  Sharpe,  that  great  Cornell  coach, 
who,  in  the  fall  of  1915  found  it  possible  to  break 
through  the  Harvard  line  of  victories,  and  hang- 
ing on  the  walls  in  the  trophy  room  at  Cornell 
University  is  a  much  prized  souvenir  of  Cornell's 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  355 

visit  to  Cambridge.  That  was  the  only  defeat 
on  the  Harvard  schedule.  But  sometimes  de- 
feats have  to  come  to  insure  victory,  and  perhaps 
in  that  defeat  by  Cornell  lay  the  reason  for  the 
overwhelming  score  against  Yale. 

Slowly,  but  surely,  Al  Sharpe  has  won  his  way 
into  the  front  ranks  of  football  coaches.  Work- 
ing steadfastly  year  after  year  he  has  built  up 
and  established  a  system  that  has  set  Cornell's 
football  machinery  upon  a  firm  foundation. 

Glenn  Warner 

Glenn  Warner  has  contributed  a  great  deal  to 
football,  both  as  a  player  and  coach. 

Warner  was  one  of  the  greatest  linemen  that 
ever  played  on  the  Cornell  team.  After  leav- 
ing college  he  began  his  coaching  career  in  1895 
at  the  University  of  Georgia.  His  success  there 
was  remarkable.  It  attracted  so  much  attention 
that  he  was  called  back  to  Cornell  in  1897  and 
1898.  In  1899  Warner  moved  again  and  began 
his  historic  work  at  the  Carlisle  Indian  School, 
turning  out  a  team  year  after  year  that  gave  the 
big  colleges  a  close  battle  and  sometimes  beat 
them. 

There  never  was  a  team  that  attracted  so  much 
attention  as  the  Carlisle  Indians.  They  were 
popular  everywhere  and  drew  large  crowds,  not 
only  on  account  of  their  being  Redmen,  but  on 
account  of  their  adaptability  to  the  game.  War- 
ner, as  their  coach,  wrought  wonders  with  them, 


356  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

and  really  all  the  colleges  at  one  time  or  another 
had  their  scalps  taken  by  the  Indians.  They 
were  the  champion  travelers  of  the  game.  Their 
games  were  generally  all  away  from  home,  and 
yet  the  long  trips  did  not  seem  to  hamper  them 
in  their  play.  They  got  enjoyment  out  of  trav- 
eling. 

Going  from  Princeton  to  New  York  one  Fri- 
day night  some  years  ago,  I  was  told  by  the  con- 
ductor that  the  Carlisle  football  team  was  in  the 
last  car.  I  went  back  and  talked  with  Warner. 
The  Indian  team  were  amusing  themselves  in  one 
end  of  the  car,  and  thus  passing  the  time  away 
by  entering  into  a  game  they  were  accustomed  to 
play  on  trips.  One  of  the  Carlisle  players 
would  stand  in  the  center  of  the  aisle  and  some 
fifteen  or  so  men  would  group  about  him,  in  and 
about  and  on  top  of  the  seats.  This  central  fig- 
ure would  bend  over  and  close  his  eyes.  Then 
some  one  from  the  crowd  would  reach  over  and 
spank  the  crouching  Indian  a  terrific  blow,  has- 
tily drawing  back  his  hand.  Then  the  Indian 
who  had  received  the  blow  would  straighten  up 
and  try,  by  the  expression  of  guilt  on  the  face 
of  the  one  who  had  delivered  the  blow,  to  find 
his  man.  Their  faces  were  a  study,  yet  nearly 
every  time  the  right  man  was  detected. 

Who  is  there  in  football  who  will  ever  forget 
the  Indian  team,  their  red  blankets  and  all  that 
was  typical  of  them;  the  yells  that  the  crowds 
gave  as  the  Indians  appeared.     They  seemed 


lllE  GUEAXJitST  INDIAN  OF  THEM  ALL 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  357 

always  to  be  fit.  They  were  full  of  spirit  and 
anxious  to  clash  with  their  opponents. 

I  recall  an  incident  in  a  Princeton-Carlisle 
game,  when  the  game  was  being  fiercely  waged. 
Miller,  the  great  Indian  halfback,  had  scored  a 
touchdown,  after  a  long  run.  It  was  not  long 
after  this  that  a  Princeton  player  was  injured. 
Maybe  the  play  was  being  slowed  up  a  little. 
Anyway,  time  was  taken  out.  One  of  the  In- 
dians seemed  to  sense  the  situation.  The  Prince- 
ton players  were  lying  on  the  ground  while  the 
Carlisle  men  were  prancing  about  eager  to  re- 
sume the  fray,  when  one  of  the  Indians  re- 
marked : 

"White  man  play  for  wind.  Indian  play  foot- 
ball." 

In  1915  Warner  went  to  the  University  of 
Pittsburgh.  Here  he  has  already  begun  to  du- 
plicate former  successes.  Cruikshank,  Peck,  and 
Wagner  are  three  of  Pittsburgh's  many  stars. 
Probably  the  greatest  football  player  that  War- 
ner ever  developed  at  the  Carlisle  Indian  School 
was  Jim  Thorpe,  whose  picture  appears  on  the 
opposite  page.  Unhappy  the  end,  and  not  in- 
frequently the  back,  who  had  to  face  this  versa- 
tile player.     Thorpe  was  a  raider. 

Billy  Bull 

Billy  Bull  of  Yale  is  one  of  the  old  heroes 
who  has  kept  in  very  close  touch  with  the  game. 
He  has  been  a  valuable  coach  at  Yale  and  the 


358  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Elis'  kicking  game  is  left  entirely  in  his  hands. 
He  is  an  enthusiastic  believer  in  the  game.  Im- 
mediately after  leaving  New  Haven  in  1889  he 
started  to  coach  and  since  that  time  he  has  not 
missed  a  year.  Years  ago  he  inaugurated  a  rou- 
tine system  of  coaching  for  the  various  styles  of 
kicks.  *'My  object,"  he  said  recently,  "has  been 
to  turn  out  consistent  rather  than  wonderful 
kickers.  As  a  player  I  was  early  impressed  with 
the  value  of  kicking,  not  only  in  a  general  way 
but  also  in  a  particular  way,  such  as  the  punt  in 
an  offensive  way.  For  more  than  twenty-five 
years  I  have  talked  it  up.  For  a  long  time  I 
talked  it  to  deaf  ears,  especially  at  Yale.  I 
talked  it  when  I  coached  at  West  Point  for  ten 
years  and  was  generally  set  down  as  a  harmless 
crank  on  the  subject,  but  I  have  lived  to  see  the 
time  when  every  one  agrees  on  the  great  value 
of  this  offensive  kick. 

"When  I  entered  Yale  I  was  an  absolute 
greenhorn,  but  the  greenhorn  had  a  chance  then, 
for  he  was  able  to  play  in  actual  scrimmage  every 
day;  now  the  squads  are  so  big  that  opportuni- 
ties for  playing  the  game  for  long  daily  periods 
are  entirely  wanting. 

*'To-day  it  is  a  case  of  a  heap  big  talk,  a  coach 
for  every  position,  more  talk,  lots  of  system, 
blackboard  exercises  and  mighty  little  actual 
play. 

"I  have  often  wondered  if  things  were  not  be- 
ing overdone  as  far  as  coaching  goes  in  the  pre- 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  359 

paratory  schools  at  the  present  time.  The  su- 
perabundance of  coaches  and  the  demand  for  vic- 
tory combine  to  force  the  boy. 

"If  there  is  any  forcing  to  do,  the  college  is 
the  place  for  it,  when  the  boy  is  older  and  bet- 
ter able  to  stand  the  strain.  In  recent  years  I 
have  seen  not  a  few  brokendown  boys  enter  col- 
lege. Boj^s  are  coming  to  college  now  who  needs 
must  be  told  everything,  and  if  there  is  not  a 
large  body  of  coaches  about  to  tell  them,  they 
mutiny.  They  seem  to  forget,  or  not  to  know, 
that  most  is  up  to  the  man  himself. 

"When  a  boy  comes  to  college  with  the  idea 
that  all  that  is  necessary  is  for  him  to  be  told, 
constantly  told  how  to  do  this  and  that,  and  he 
will  deliver  in  the  last  ditch,  I  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  something  is  wrong. 

"I  have  in  mind  right  now  a  player  in  the  line, 
who  came  to  college  after  four  years  of  school 
football.  Ever  since  his  entry  he  has  complained 
that  no  one  has  told  him  anything.  Now  this 
particular  player  spends  ten  months  of  each  year 
loafing,  and  expects  in  his  two  months  of  foot- 
ball to  do  a  man's  job  in  a  big  game. 

"No  amount  of  blackboard  and  other  talk  is 
going  to  make  a  player  do  a  man's  job  and  whip 
his  opponent.  No  man  can  play  a  tackle  job 
properly  if  he  does  not  realize  the  kind  of  a  prop- 
osition he  is  up  against  twelve  months  in  the 
year  and  act  accordingly.  He  has  got  to  do  his 
own  thinking,  and  see  to  it  himself  that  he  has  the 


360  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

necessary  strength  and  toughness,  to  play  the 
game,  as  one  must  to  win." 

Sanford  the  Unique 

IGeorge  Foster  Sanford  is  unique  in  football. 
He  made  splendid  teams  when  he  coached  at 
Columbia,  while  his  subsequent  record  with  the 
Rutgers  Eleven  attracted  wide  attention. 

In  the  Columbia  Alumni  News  of  October, 
1915,  Albert  W.  Putnam,  a  former  player,  re- 
views seven  years  of  Morningside  football,  and 
pays  the  following  tribute  to  Foster  Sanford: 

"Sanford  coached  the  teams  of  1899,  1900  and 
1901.  He  coached  them  ably,  conscientiously 
and  thoroughly,  and  in  my  opinion  was  the  best 
football  coach  in  the  country." 

"During  my  three  years'  experience  as  coach 
at  Columbia,"  says  Sanford,  "we  beat  all  the 
big  teams  except  Harvard.  I  was  fortunate 
enough  to  develop  such  men  as  Weekes,  Morley, 
Wright,  and  Berrien,  players  whose  records  will 
always  stand  high  in  the  Hall  of  Football  Fame 
at  Columbia.  I  was  particularly  well  satisfied 
with  the  work  I  got  out  of  Slocovitch,  a  former 
Yale  player,  whom  the  Yale  coaches  had  never 
seemed  to  handle  properly.  I  did  not  allow  him 
to  play  over  one  day  a  week.  This  was  because 
I  had  discovered  that  he  was  very  heavily  mus- 
cled ;  that  if  he  played  continuously  he  would  be- 
come muscle  bound.  My  treatment  proved  to 
fit  the  case  exactly  and  Slocovitch  became  a  star 


me:n^  who  coached        sei 

end  for  Columbia.  We  defeated  Yale  the  first 
year;  the  next  year  at  New  Haven  the  contest 
was  a  strenuous  one,  and  the  game  attracted  un- 
usual attention.  It  was  in  my  own  home  town, 
and  I  had  to  stand  for  a  lot  of  good  natured  kid- 
ding, but  those  who  were  there  will  remember 
how  scared  the  Yale  coaches  got  during  the  last 
part  of  the  game,  when  Columbia  made  terrific 
advances.  How  Columbia's  team  fought  Gor- 
don Brown's  Eleven  ahnost  to  a  standstill  that 
day  is  something  that  the  Yale  coaches  of  that 
time  will  long  remember." 

An  old  Yale  player,  Bob  Loree,  whose  father 
is  a  Trustee  of  Rutgers,  induced  Sanford  to  lend 
the  college  his  assistance.  Apparently  this  con- 
nection was  an  unmixed  blessing.  "Mr.  L.  F. 
Loree,  Bob's  father,"  says  Sandy,  "has  frankly 
admitted  that  in  his  opinion  Sanford's  gift  to  the 
college  (for  he  works  without  remuneration)  has 
brought  a  spirit  and  a  betterment  of  conditions 
which  is  worth  fully  as  much  as  donations  of 
thousands  of  dollars. 

"From  the  first  day  I  went  there,"  continues 
Sandy,  "I  started  to  build  up  football  for  Rut- 
gers and  to  rely  on  Rutgers  men  for  my  assist- 
ants. It  was  there  that  I  met  the  best  football 
man  I  ever  coached,  John  T.  Toohey.  This  re- 
markable tackle  weighed  220  pounds.  The  life 
he  led  and  the  example  he  set  will  always  have  a 
lasting  influence  upon  Rutgers  men.  For  sad 
to  relate,  Toohey  was  killed  in  the  railroad  yards 


362  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

at  Oneonta,  where  he  was  yard  master.  Toohey 
was  a  great  leader,  possessing  a  wonderful  per- 
sonality, and  winning  the  immediate  respect  of 
every  one  who  knew  him." 

Twenty-five  years  have  passed  since  I  saw 
Sanford  that  morning  in  the  Fifth  Avenue  Ho- 
tel. Since  then  I  have  followed  his  football 
career  with  enthusiasm.  Boyhood  heroes  live 
long  in  mind.  He  is  what  might  be  called  a 
major  surgeon  in  football,  for  it  is  a  matter  of 
record  that  he  has  been  called  back  to  Yale,  not 
when  the  patient  was  merely  sick,  but  in  a  serious 
condition.  Usually  the  operation  has  been  per- 
formed with  such  skill  that  the  patient  has  ral- 
lied with  disconcerting  suddenness. 

Talking  to  the  Yale  teams  between  the  halves, 
giving  instructions,  which  have  turned  dubious 
prospects  into  flaming  victories,  is  a  service  which 
Sanford  has  rendered  Yale  more  than  once. 
Victory,  as  it  hapj^ens,  is  the  principal  charac- 
teristic of  Sanford's  work.  Long  is  the  list  of 
players  whom  Sanford  has  developed. 

"In  my  coaching  experience,"  Sandy  tells  us, 
"I  doubt  if  I  ever  coached  a  man  where  my  hard 
work  counted  for  more  at  Yale  than  the  case  of 
Charhe  Chadwick  in  1897.  For  many  years 
there  has  been  a  saying  that  a  one  man  defense  is 
as  good  as  an  eleven  men  defense,  providing  you 
can  get  one  man  who  can  do  it. 

"Of  course  this  never  worked  out  literally,  but 
the  case  of  Charlie  Chadwick  is  probably  the  best 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  363 

explanation  of  its  value.  Besides  being  overde- 
veloped, he  was  temperamental.  At  times  he 
would  show  great  form  and  at  other  times  his 
playing  was  hopeless.  This  j^ear  I  was  asked 
to  come  to  New  Haven  and  began  coaching  the 
hnemen.  Chadwick  looked  good  to  me,  in  spite 
of  much  criticism  that  was  made  by  the  coaches. 
In  their  opinion  they  thought  he  was  not  to  be 
relied  upon,  so  I  decided  to  stake  my  reputation, 
and  began  in  my  own  way,  feeling  sure  that  I 
could  get  results,  in  preparing  him  for  the  Har- 
vard and  Princeton  games. 

"I  started  out  purposely  annoying  Chadwick 
in  every  possible  way,  going  with  him  wherever 
he  went.  I  went  with  him  to  his  room  evenings 
and  did  not  leave  until  he  had  become  so  bored 
that  he  fell  asleep,  or  that  he  got  mad  and  told 
me  to  get  out.  I  planned  it  that  Chadwick  ap- 
proach the  coaches  whenever  he  saw  them  to- 
gether and  say:  'I  wish  you  would  let  me  play 
on  this  team.  If  you  will  I  will  play  the  game 
of  my  life.  I  will  play  like  hell.'  After  he  had 
made  this  speech  two  or  three  times,  they  were 
very  positive  that  he  was  more  than  tempera- 
mental. I  kept  steadily  at  my  plan,  however, 
and  felt  sure  it  would  work  out. 

"The  line  was  finally  turned  over  to  me  and  I 
had  opportunity  to  slip  Chadwick  in  for  two  or 
three  plays  at  left  guard.  He  played  like  a 
demon;  he  was  literally  a  one  man  defense,  but 
he  received  no  credit.     I  immediately  removed 


364i  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

him  from  the  game  and  criticised  him  severely 
and  told  him  to  follow  up  the  play  and  in  case  I 
needed  him  he  would  be  handy.  I  realized  what 
a  great  player  he  was  proving  to  be,  and  my 
great  problem  then  was  how  I  was  to  convince 
the  coaches  that  Chadwick  should  start  the  game. 
I  tried  it  out  a  few  times,  but  saw  it  was  useless 
trying  to  convince  them,  so  I  decided  to  concen- 
trate on  Jim  Rodgers,  the  Captain.  Jim  con- 
sented. My  plan  was  to  tell  no  one  except  Mar- 
shall, the  man  whose  place  Chadwick  was  to  take. 
The  lineup  was  called  out  in  the  dressing  room 
before  the  game.  Chadwick's  name  was  not  in- 
cluded. I  had  arranged  with  Julian  Curtis,  who 
was  in  close  touch  with  the  cheer  leaders,  that 
when  I  gave  the  signal,  the  Yale  crowd  would 
be  instructed  to  stand  and  yell  nothing  but  'Chad- 
wick, Chadwick,  Chadwick.'  The  Yale  team  ran 
out  upon  the  field.  I  stayed  behind  with  Chad- 
wick and  came  in  through  the  gate  holding  him 
by  the  arm.  Before  going  on  the  side  lines  I 
stopped  him  and  said:  'Look  here,  Chadwick. 
It  doesn't  look  as  though  you're  going  to  play, 
but  if  I  put  you  in  that  lineup  how  will  you 
play?'  Like  a  shot  from  a  cannon  he  roared; 
'I'll  play  like  hell.' 

"You  could  have  heard  him  a  mile.  'Well 
then,  give  me  your  sweater  and  warm  up,'  I  said, 
and  as  I  gave  the  signal  to  Julian  Curtis,  he 
passed  the  word  on  to  the  cheer  leaders  and  the 
sight  of  Chadwick  running  up  and  down  those 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  365 

side  lines  will  never  be  forgotten.  It  is  esti- 
mated that  he  leaped  five  yards  at  a  stride,  and 
with  the  students  cheering,  'Chadwick,  Chadwick, 
Chadwick,'  he  was  sent  out  into  the  lineup — and 
the  rest,  well,  you'd  better  ask  the  men  who 
played  on  the  Harvard  team  that  day.  It  was  a 
stream  of  men  going  on  and  off  the  field  and 
they  were  headed  for  right  guard  position  on  the 
Harvard  side.  Harvard  could  not  beat  Chad- 
wick, so  the  game  ended  in  a  tie." 

Jim  Rodgers,  captain  of  that  team,  also  has 
something  to  say  of  Chadwick. 

"In  the  Harvard- Yale  game,"  Rodgers  writes, 
"Charlie  Chadwick  played  the  game  of  his  life. 
He  used  up  about  six  men  who  played  against 
him  that  day,  but  he  never  could  put  out  Bill 
Edwards  the  day  we  played  Princeton.  I 
played  against  Chadwick  on  the  Scrub,  and  the 
first  charge  he  made  against  me  I  went  clean  back 
to  fullback.  It  was  just  as  though  an  automobile 
had  hit  me.  I  played  against  Heffelfinger  and  a 
lot  of  them.  I  could  hold  those  fellows.  Gee! 
but  I  was  sore.  I  said  to  myself,  you  won't  do 
that  again,  and  the  next  time  I  was  set  back  just 
as  far. 

"One  feature  of  this  Yale-Princeton  game  im- 
pressed me  tremendously,  that  of  Bill  Edwards' 
stand,  against  what  I  considered  a  superman, 
Charles  Chadwick.  Before  the  game  I  had  con- 
fidently expected  Big  Bill  to  resign  after  about 
five  minutes'  play,  knowing,  as  I  did,  how  Chad- 


366  iFOOTBALL  DAYS 

wick  was  going.  In  this,  however,  Edwards  was 
a  great  disappointment,  as  he  stuck  the  game  out 
and  was  stronger  at  the  end,  than  at  the  start  or 
half  way  through.  Had  he  weakened  at  all,  Ad 
Kelly's  great  offensive  work  would  have  heen 
doomed  to  failure.  Edwards  finished  up  the 
game  against  Chadwick  with  a  face  that  re- 
sembled a  raw  beefsteak.  To  my  mind  he  was 
the  worst  punished  man  I  have  ever  seen.  He 
stood  by  his  guns  to  the  finish,  and  ever  since 
then  my  hat  has  been  off  to  him." 

One  of  the  most  interesting  characters  in 
Southern  football  is  W.  R.  Tichenor,  a  thorough 
enthusiast  in  the  game  and  known  wherever 
there  is  a  football  in  the  South.  His  father  was 
president  of  the  Alabama  Polytechnic.  He  was 
a  fine  player  and  weighed  about  120  pounds. 
He  is  the  emergency  football  man  of  the  South. 
Whenever  there  is  a  football  dispute  Tichenor 
settles  it.  Whenever  a  coach  is  taken  sick, 
Tichenor  is  called  upon  to  take  his  place. 
Whenever  an  emergency  official  is  needed,  Tich 
comes  to  the  rescue.  He  tells  the  following 
story : 

"Every  boy  who  has  been  to  Auburn  in  the 
last  twenty  years  knows  Bob  Frazier.  INI  any  of 
them,  however,  may  not  recognize  that  name,  as 
he  has  been  called  Bob  'Sponsor'  for  so  long 
that  few  of  them  know  his  real  name.  Bob  is  as 
black  as  the  inside  of  a  coal  mine  and  has  rubbed 
and  worked  for  the  various  teams  at  Auburn 


BILLY  BULL  ADVISING  WITH  CAI^TAIN  TALBOT 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  367; 

'since  the  memory  of  man  runneth  not  to  the 
contrary.' 

*'Just  after  the  Christmas  Holidays  one  year  in 
the  middle  nineties,  Bob,  with  the  view  of  mak- 
ing a  touch,  called  at  Bill  WilHams'  room  one 
night. 

"After  asking  Bill  if  he  had  had  a  good  Christ- 
mas, 'Sponsor'  remarked;  'You  know,  Mr. 
Williams,  us  Auburn  niggers  went  down  and 
played  dem  Tuskegee  niggers  a  game  of  foot- 
ball during  Christmas.' 

"  'Who  did  you  have  on  the  team.  Bob?'  in- 
quired Bill. 

"  'Oh — we  had  a  lot  of  dese  niggers  roun' 
town  yere.  They  was  me,  an'  Crooksie,  an'  Ho- 
mer, an'  Bear,  an'  Cockeye,  an'  a  lot  of  dese  yer 
town  niggers.' 

"  'How  did  you  come  out?'  asked  Bill. 

"  'Oh,  dem  Tuskegee  niggers  give  us  a  good 
lickin'.' 

"'What  position  did  you  play?' 

*'  'Me?'  said  Bob,  'I  was  de  cap'en.  I  played 
all  roun'.  I  played  center.  Den  I  played 
quarterback.     Den  I  played  halfback.' 

"  'What  system  of  signals  did  you  use  and 
who  called  them?'  was  Bill's  next  inquiry. 

"  'Ain't  I  tole  you,  Mr.  Williams,  I  was  de 
cap'en.  I  called  the  signals.  Dem  niggers  of 
mine  couldn't  learn  no  signals,  so  we  jus'  played 
lack  we  had  some.  I'd  give  some  numbers  to 
fool  the  Tuskegee  niggers.     But  dem  numberi^ 


368  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

didn't  mean  notliin'.  I'd  say,  *'two,  four,  six, 
eight,  ten — tek  dat  ball,  Homer,  an'  go  roun'  the 
end."  Dat's  de  only  sort  of  signals  dem  nig- 
gers could  learn  and  sometimes  dey  missed  dem. 
Dat's  de  reason  we  got  beat  and  dem  Tuskegee 
niggers  got  all  my  money.  Mr.  Williams,  I'm 
jus'  as  nickless  as  a  ha'nt.  Can't  you  lem'  me 
two  bits  til'  Sadday  night,  please  suh?  Honest 
to  God,  I'U  pay  you  back  den,  shore.' " 

Listening  to  Yost 

*'Hurry  KJp"  Yost  is  one  of  tHe  most  interest- 
ing and  enthusiastic  football  coaches  in  the  coun- 
try. The  title  of  "Hurry  Up"  has  been  given 
him  on  account  of  the  "pep"  he  puts  into  his  men 
and  the  speed  at  which  they  work.  Whether  in 
a  restaurant  or  a  crowded  street,  hotel  lobby  or 
on  a  raikoad  train,  Yost  will  proceed  to  demon- 
strate this  or  that  play  and  carefully  explain 
many  of  the  things  well  worth  while  in  football. 
He  is  always  in  deadly  earnest.  Out  of  the  foot- 
ball season,  during  business  hours,  he  is  ever 
ready  to  talk  the  game.  Yost's  football  experi- 
ence as  a  player  began  at  the  University  of  West 
Virginia,  where  he  played  tackle.  Lafayette 
beat  them  that  year  6  to  0.  Shortly  after  this 
Yost  entered  Lafayette.  His  early  experience 
in  football  there  was  under  the  famous  football 
expert  and  writer,  Parke  Davis. 

Yost  and  Rinehart  wear  a  broad  smile  as  they 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  369 

tell  of  the  way  Parke  Davis  used  to  entertain 
teams  off  the  field.  He  always  kept  them  in  the 
finest  of  humor.  Parke  Davis,  they  say,  is  a 
born  entertainer,  and  many  an  evening  in  the 
club  house  did  he  keep  their  minds  off  football 
by  a  wonderful  demonstration  of  sleight-of-hand 
with  the  cards. 

"If  Parke  Davis  had  taken  his  coat  off  and 
stuck  to  coaching  he  would  have  been  one  of 
the  greatest  leaders  in  that  Hne  in  the  country 
to-day,"  says  Yost.  "He  was  more  or  a  less  a 
bug  on  football.  You  know  that  to  be  good  in 
anything  one  must  be  crazy  about  it.  Davis  was 
certainly  a  bug  on  football  and  so  am  I.  Every- 
body knows  that. 

"I  shall  never  forget  Davis  after  Lafayette 
had  beaten  Cornell  6  to  0,  in  1895,  at  Ithaca. 
That  night  in  the  course  of  the  celebration  Parke 
uncovered  everything  he  had  in  the  way  of  en- 
tertainment and  gave  an  exhibition  of  his  famous 
dance,  so  aptly  named  the  'dance  du  venture,'  by 
that  enthusiastic  Lafayette  alumnus,  John 
Clarke. 

"I  have  been  at  Michigan  fifteen  seasons. 
My  1901  team  is  perhaps  the  most  remarkable 
in  the  history  of  football  in  many  ways.  It 
scored  550  points  to  opponents'  nothing,  and 
journeyed  3500  miles.  We  played  Stanford  on 
New  Year's  da}'-,  using  no  substitutes.  On  this 
great  team  were  Neil  Snow,  and  the  remarkable 
quarterback  Boss  Weeks.     Willie  Heston,  who 


370  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

was  playing  his  first  year  at  Michigan,  was  an- 
other star  on  this  team.  A  picture  of  Michigan's 
great  team  appears  on  the  opposite  page, 

"Boss  Weeks'  two  teams  scored  more  than 
1200  points.  If  that  team  had  been  in  front  of 
the  Chinese  Wall  and  got  the  signal  to  go,  not  a 
man  would  have  hesitated.  Every  man  that 
played  mider  Boss  Weeks  idolized  him,  and  when 
word  was  brought  to  the  university  that  he  had 
died,  every  Michigan  man  felt  that  its  university 
had  lost  one  of  its  greatest  men. 

*'I  am  perhaps  more  of  a  boy's  man  to-day 
than  I  ever  was.  There  is  a  great  satisfaction  in 
feeling  that  you  have  an  influence  in  the  lives  of 
the  men  under  you.  Coaching  is  a  sacred  job. 
There's  no  question  about  it. 

"There  is  a  wonderful  athletic  spirit  at  Michi- 
gan, and  when  we  have  mass  meetings  in  the  Hill 
Auditorium  6000  men  turn  out.  At  such  a  time 
one  feels  the  great  power  behind  an  athletic  team. 
Some  of  the  great  Michigan  football  players 
within  my  recollection  were  Jimmy  Baird,  Jack 
McLain,  Neil  Snow,  Boss  Weeks,  Tom  Ham- 
mond, Willie  Heston,  Herrnstein,  grand  old 
Germany  Schultz,  Benbrook,  Stan  Wells,  Dan 
McGugin,  Dave  Allerdice,  Hugh  White  and 
others  I  might  mention  on  down  to  John  Maul- 
betsch." 

Reggie  Brown  is  probably  one  of  the  most 
famous  of  the  Hai-vard  coaches.  His  work  in 
Harvard  football  is  to  find  out  what  the  other 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  371 

teams  are  doing.  He  is  on  hand  at  Yale  Field 
every  Saturday  when  the  Yale  team  plays.  He 
is  unique  in  his  scouting  work,  in  that  he  carries 
his  findings  in  his  head.  His  memory  is  his  men- 
tal note  book. 

In  talking  with  Harvard  men  I  have  found 
that  the  general  impression  is  that  the  work  of 
this  coach  is  one  of  Harvard's  biggest  assets. 

Jimmy  Knox  of  Harvard  is  one  of  Haugh- 
ton's  most  valued  scouts.  Every  fall  Princeton 
is  his  haven  of  scouting.  He  does  it  most  suc- 
cessfully and  in  a  truly  sportsmanlike  way. 

One  day  en  route  to  Princeton  I  met  Knox  on 
the  train  and  sat  with  him  as  far  as  Princeton 
Junction.  When  we  arrived  at  Princeton,  a 
friend  of  mine  called  me  aside  and  said: 

"Who  is  that  loyal  Princeton  man  who  seems 
never  to  miss  a  game?" 

"He  is  not  a  Princeton  man,"  I  replied.  "He 
is  Knox  the  Harvard  scout.  He  will  be  with 
Haughton  to-morrow  at  Cambridge  with  his 
dope  book." 

"From  questions  asked  me  I  am  quite  sure 
that  there  is  an  utter  misconception  of  the  work 
of  the  scouts  for  the  big  league  teams,"  says 
Jimmy.  "I  have  frequently  been  asked  how  I 
get  in  to  see  the  practice  of  our  opponents,  how  I 
manage  to  get  their  signals,  how  I  anticipate 
what  they  are  going  to  do,  what  is  the  value  of 
scouting  anyway.  From  five  years'  experience, 
I  can  say  that  I  have  never  seen  our  opponents 


372  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

except  in  public  games.  I  have  never  uncon- 
sciously noted  a  signal  even  for  a  kick,  much  less 
made  a  deliberate  attempt  to  learn  the  oppo- 
nents' signals  or  code.  What  little  I  know  of 
their  ultimate  plans  is  merely  by  applying  com- 
mon sense  to  their  problem,  based  on  the  material 
and  methods  which  they  command.  As  to  the 
value  of  scouting,  volumes  might  be  written,  but 
suffice  it  to  say  that  it  is  the  principal  means  of 
standardizing  the  game.  If  the  big  teams  of  the 
country  played  throughout  the  season  in  seclu- 
sion, the  final  games  would  be  a  hodge-podge  of 
varying  systems  which  would  curtail  the  interest 
of  the  spectator  and  all  but  block  the  develop- 
ment of  the  game. 

"The  reports  of  the  scouts  give  the  various 
coaching  corps  a  fixed  objective  so  that  the  vari- 
ous teams  come  to  their  final  game  with  what 
might  be  considered  a  uniform  examination  to 
pass.  The  result  is  a  steady,  logical  develop- 
ment of  the  game  from  the  inside  and  the  maxi- 
mum interest  for  the  spectator.  It  is  unfor- 
tunate that  the  public  has  misconstrued  scouting 
to  mean  spying,  for  there  is  nothing  under- 
handed in  the  scouting  department  of  football  as 
any  big  team  coach  will  testify." 

Knox  tells  of  an  interesting  experience  of  his 
Freshman  year. 

"I  never  hear  the  question  debated  as  to 
whether  character  is  born  in  a  man  or  developed 
as  time  goes  on,"  says  he,  "without  recalling  my 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  373 

first  meeting  with  Marshall  Xewell,  probably  the 
best  loved  man  that  ever  graduated  from  Har- 
vard. In  the  middle  90's  it  was  considered  be- 
neath the  dignity  of  a  former  Varsity  player  to 
coach  any  but  Varsity  candidates.  Marshall 
Newell  was  an  exception.  Without  solicitation 
he  came  over  to  the  Freshman  field  many  times 
and  gave  us  youngsters  the  benefit  of  his  advice. 
On  his  first  trip  he  went  into  the  line-up  and  gave 
us  an  example  of  how  the  game  could  be  played 
by  a  master.  When  the  practice  was  over,  Ma 
Newell  came  up  to  me  and  said:  'I  guess  I  was 
a  little  rough,  my  boy,  but  I  just  wanted  to  test 
your  grit.  You  had  better  come  over  to  the 
Varsity  field  to-morrow  with  two  or  three  of  the 
other  fellows  that  I  am  going  to  speak  to.  I'll 
watch  you  and  help  you  after  you  get  there.' 
And  he  did.  He  was  loved  because  he  was  big 
enough  to  disregard  convention,  to  sympathize 
with  the  less  proficient  and  to  make  an  inferior 
feel  as  if  he  were  on  a  plane  of  equality.  The 
highest  type  of  manliood  was  born  with  Marshall 
Newell  and  developed  through  every  hour  of  a 
"too  short  life. 

"Only  those  who  played  football  in  the  old 
days  and  have  carefully  followed  it  since  appre- 
ciate the  difference  in  the  two  types  of  game. 
I  frequently  wonder  if  the  old  type  of  game  did 
not  develop  more  in  a  man  than  the  modern. 
As  a  freshman  I  was  playing  halfback  on  the 
second  Varsity  one  afternoon  when  a  sudden 


374  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

blow  knocked  me  unconscious  while  the  play  was 
at  one  end  of  the  field.  When  I  regained  con- 
sciousness the  play  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
field,  not  a  soul  was  near  me  or  thinking  of  me. 
I  had  hardly  got  within  ear-shot  of  the  scrim- 
mage when  I  heard  Lewis,  one  of  the  Varsity 
coaches,  call  out,  'Come  on,  get  in  here,  they 
can't  kill  fellows  like  you.'  I  went  into  the 
scrimmage  and  played  the  rest  of  the  afternoon. 
It  was  a  simple  incident,  but  I  learned  two  les- 
sons of  life  from  it :  first,  you  can  expect  mighty 
little  sympathy  when  you  are  down ;  second,  you 
are  not  out  if  you  will  only  go  back  and  stick 
to  it." 

Dartmouth  holds  a  unique  position  in  college 
football.  There  are  many  men  who  were  re- 
sponsible for  Dartmouth's  success,  men  who 
have  stood  by  year  after  year  and  worked  out  the 
football  policy  there. 

It  is  my  experience  that  Dartmouth  men  uni- 
versally call  Ed  Hall  the  father  of  Dartmouth 
football.  He  has  served  faithfully  on  the  Rules 
Committee  as  well  as  an  official  in  the  game. 

Myron  E.  Witham,  that  great  player  and 
captain  of  the  Dartmouth  team  which  was  vic- 
torious over  Harvard  the  day  that  Harvard 
opened  the  Stadium,  says :  "If  one  goes  back  to 
Hanover  and  visits  the  trophy  room  he  will  see 
hanging  there  the  winning  football  which  Dart- 
mouth men  glory  over  as  they  recall  that  won- 
derful victory  oyer  Harvard.     Ed  Hall  is  the 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  375 

man  who  is  often  called  upon  to  speak  to  the  men 
between  the  halves.  His  talks  have  a  telling  ef- 
fect.    Hall's  name  is  traditional  at  our  college." 

There  are  many  football  enthusiasts  who  re- 
call that  wonderful  backfield  that  Dartmouth 
had,  JMcCornack,  Eckstrom,  McAndrews  and 
Crolius.  These  men  got  away  wonderfully  fast 
and  hit  the  line  like  one  man.  They  played 
every  game  without  a  substitute  for  two  years. 

Fred  Crolius,  who  takes  great  delight  in  re- 
calling the  old  days,  has  the  following  to  say 
about  one  who  coached: 

"One  man,  whose  influence  more  than  any 
other  one  thing,  succeeded  in  laying  a  founda- 
tion for  Dartmouth's  wonderful  results,  but 
whose  name  is  seldom  mentioned  in  that  connec- 
tion is  Doctor  Wurtenberg,  who  was  brought  up 
in  the  early  Yale  football  school.  He  had  the 
keenest  sense  of  fundamental  football  and  the 
greatest  intensity  of  spirit  in  transmitting  his 
hard  earned  knowledge.  Four  critical  years  he 
worked  with  us  filling  every  one  with  his  en- 
thusiasm and  those  four  years  Dartmouth  foot- 
ball gained  such  headway  that  nothing  could  stop 
its  growth." 

Enough  space  cannot  be  given  to  pay  proper 
tribute  to  Walter  McCornack,  Dartmouth  '97. 

^lyron  Witham  relates  a  humorous  incident 
that  happened  in  practice  when  McCornack 
was  coach  at  Dartmouth.  "Mac's  serious  and 
exacting  demeanor  on  the  practice  field  occasion- 


376  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ally  relaxed  to  enjoy  a  humorous  situation.  He 
chose  to  give  a  personal  demonstration  of  my 
position  and  duty  as  quarterback  in  a  particular 
formation  around  the  end.  He  took  my  place 
and  giving  the  proper  signal,  the  team  or  rather 
ten-elevenths  of  the  team  went  through  with  the 
play,  leaving  Mac  behind  standing  in  his  tracks. 
Mac  naturally  was  at  a  loss  to  locate  the  quarter, 
during  the  execution  of  the  play  and  madly 
yelled,  'Where  in  the  devil  is  that  quarterback?' 
aBut  immediately  joined  with  the  squad  in  the 
joke  upon  himself." 

McCornack  coached  Dartmouth  in  the  falls  of 
1901  and  1902.  He  brought  the  team  up  from 
nothing  to  a  two  years'  defeat  of  Brovm  and  two 
years'  scoring  on  Harvard.  The  game  with 
Harvard  in  the  fall  of  1902  resulted  in  a  score 
of  16  to  6,  Dartmouth  out-rushing  Harvard  at 
least  3  to  1. 

McCornack  then  resigned,  but  left  a  wealth  of 
Xnaterial  and  a  scientific  game  at  Dartmouth, 
which  was  as  good  as  any  in  the  country.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  Dartmouth's  success  in 
modern  football,  and  for  it  McCornack  has  been 
named  the  father  of  modern  football  at  Dart- 
mouth. 

The  greatest  compliment  ever  paid  McCor- 
nack, in  so  far  as  athletics  were  concerned,  was 
by  President  William  Jewett  Tucker  of  Dart- 
mouth, who  told  an  alumnus  of  the  institution : 

"The  discipline  that  McCornack  maintained 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  377 

on  the  football  field  at  Dartmouth  was  to  tKe  ad- 
vantage of  the  general  discipline  of  the  institu- 
tion." 

For  ten  years  after  McCornack  had  stopped 
coaching  at  Dartmouth,  the  captain  of  the  Dart- 
mouth team  would  wear  his  sweater  in  a  Harvard 
game  as  an  emblem  to  go  by.  The  sweater  is 
now  worn  out,  and  no  one  knows  where  it  is. 

If  Eddie  Holt's  record  at  Princeton  told  of 
nothing  else  than  the  making  of  a  great  guard, 
this  would  be  enough  to  establish  Holt's  ability 
as  a  guard  coach.  Eddie  and  Sam  Craig  played 
alongside  of  each  other  in  the  Yale  defeat  of  '97. 
Holt  says: 

*'The  story  of  the  making  of  Sam  Craig  is  the 
old  story  of  the  stone  the  builders  rejected,  which 
is  now  the  head  stone  of  the  corner.  Sam  never 
forgot  the  '97  defeat  and  I  never  have  myself. 
'After  this  game  Sam  gave  up  football,  although 
he  was  eligible  to  play.  Two  years  later,  after 
Princeton  had  been  defeated  by  Cornell,  some- 
thing had  to  be  done  to  strengthen  the  Princeton 
line.  Sam  Craig  was  at  the  Seminary.  I  re- 
membered him,"  said  Holt,  "and  went  over  to  his 
room  and  told  him  that  he  was  needed.  I  shall 
never  forget  how  his  face  ht  up  as  he  felt  there 
was  an  opportunity  to  serve  Princeton  and  a 
chance  to  play  on  a  winning  team;  a  chance  to 
come  back.  He  responded  to  my  hurry  call, 
eager  to  make  good.  Coaching  him  was  the 
finest  thing  I  ever  did  in  football.     Qood  old 


378  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Sam,  I  can  see  him  now,  standing  on  the  side  lines 
telling  me  that  he  guessed  he  was  no  good.  You 
can  never  imagine  how  happy  I  was  to  see  him 
improve  day  by  day  after  I  had  taken  a  hold  of 
him.  The  great  game  he  played  against  Yale  in 
'99  will  always  be  one  of  my  happiest  recollec- 
tions in  football.  My  joy  was  supreme;  the  joy 
that  comes  to  a  coach  as  he  sees  his  man  make 
good — Sam  sure  did." 

It  is  very  doubtful  whether  the  inside  story  of 
Harvard's  victory  over  Yale  in  1908  has  ever 
been  told.  Those  who  remember  this  game  know 
that  the  way  for  victory  was  paved  by  Ver 
Wiebe  and  Vic  Kennard.  Harry  Kersburg,  a 
Harvard  coach,  writes  of  that  incident: 

"The  summer  of  1907  and  1908,  Kennard 
worked  for  several  hours  each  day  perfecting  his 
kicking.  This  fact  was  known  to  only  one  of 
the  coaches.  In  1906  and  1907,  Kennard  played 
as  a  substitute  but  was  most  unfortunate  in  be- 
ing smashed  up  in  nearly  every  game  in  which  he 
played.  On  account  of  this  record,  he  was  given 
little  or  no  attention  at  the  beginning  of  the  1908 
season,  even  though  the  one  coach  who  had  great 
confidence  in  Kennard's  ability  as  a  kicker  rooted 
hard  for  him  at  every  coaches'  meeting.  About 
the  middle  of  the  season,  Dave  Campbell  came  on 
from  the  West  and  with  the  one  lone  coach  be- 
came interested  in  Kennard.  On  the  day  of  the 
Springfield  Training  School  game,  most  of  the 
Harvard  coaches  went  down  to  New  Haven, 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  379 

leaving  the  team  in  charge  of  Campbell  and  Ken- 
nard's  other  rooter.  The  psychological  moment 
had  arrived.  Just  as  soon  as  the  Harvard  team 
had  rolled  up  a  tidy  little  score,  Kennard  was 
sent  into  the  game  and  instructions  were  given 
to  the  quarterback  that  he  was  to  signal  for  a  drop 
'kick  every  time  the  Harvard  team  was  within 
forty  yards  of  the  opponent's  goal — no  mat- 
ter what  the  angle  might  be.  The  game  ended 
^ith  Kennard  having  kicked  four  goals  from  the 
field  out  of  six  tries.  Nearly  all  of  them  were 
kicked  from  an  average  distance  of  thirty  yards 
and  at  very  difficult  angles.  At  the  next  coaches' 
meeting  serious  consideration  was  given  to  what 
Kennard  had  done  and  from  that  time  on  he  came 
into  liis  own. 

"Now  for  Rex  Ver  Wiebe.  For  two  years 
he  had  plugged  away  at  a  line  position  on  the 
second  team.  In  his  senior  year  he  was 
advanced  to  the  Varsity  squad.  With  all  his 
hard  work  it  seemed  impossible  for  him  to  de- 
velop into  anything  but  a  mediocre  lineman. 
iThe  line  coaches,  with  much  regret,  had  about 
given  up  all  hope.  One  afternoon,  two  weeks 
before  the  Yale  game,  one  of  the  line  coaches 
was  standing  on  the  side  lines  talking  with  Pooch 
Donovan  about  Ver  Wiebe.  Pooch  said  little, 
but  kept  a  close  watch  on  Ver  Wiebe  for  the  next 
two  or  three  days.  At  the  end  of  that  time  he 
came  out  with  the  statement  that  if  Ver  Wiebe 
could  be  taught  how  to  start,  he  would  rapidly 


380  football;  days 

develop  into  one  of  the  best  halfbacks  on  the 
squad.  Pooch's  advice  was  followed  and  in  the 
Yale  game,  Ver  Wiebe's  rushes  outside  tackle 
were  one  of  the  features  of  the  game  and  were 
directly  responsible  for  the  ball  being  brought 
down  the  field  to  such  a  position  that  it  was  pos- 
sible to  substitute  Kennard,  who  kicked  a  goal 
from  the  field  and  won  the  first  victory  for  Har- 
vard against  Yale  in  many  years. 

"It  is  a  strange  coincidence  that  the  first  of 
Harvard's  string  of  victories  against  Yale  was 
won  by  two  men  who  a  few  weeks  before  the 
game  were  in  the  so-called  football  discard.'* 

No  greater  honor  can  be  accorded  a  football 
man  than  the  invitation  to  come  back  to  his  Alma 
Mater  and  take  charge  of  the  football  situation. 
Such  a  man  has  been  selected  after  he  has 
served  efficiently  at  other  institutions,  for  it  takes 
long  experience  to  become  a  great  coach  and 
there  are  very  few  men  who  have  given  up  all 
their  time  to  consecutive  coaching. 

Successful  coaches,  as  a  rule,  are  men  who 
have  a  genius  for  it,  and  whose  strong  personal- 
ities bring  out  the  natural  ability  of  the  men 
under  them.  Successful  football  is  the  result  of 
a  good  system,  plus  good  material. 

Of  the  men  who  coach  to-day,  the  experience 
of  John  H.  Rush,  popularly  known  as  Speedy 
Rush,  stands  out  as  unique.  Rush  never  played 
football,  for  he  preferred  track  athletics,  but  he 
understood  the  theory  of  the  game.     At  the  Uni- 


MEN  WHO  COACHED  381 

versity  School  in  Cleveland  where  Rush  taught 
for  many  years,  he  took  charge  of  the  football 
team,  and  although  coachmg  mere  boys,  his  re- 
sults were  marvelous,  and  in  1915,  when  the 
Princeton  coacliing  system  was  in  a  slough  of 
despond,  it  was  decided  to  give  Rush  an  oppor- 
tunity to  show  what  he  could  do  at  Princeton. 

Rush  makes  no  boasts.  He  is  a  silent  worker, 
and  football  people  at  large  were  unanimous  in 
their  praise  of  his  work  at  Princeton  in  the  fall 
of  1915.  Whatever  the  future  holds  in  store  for 
this  coach,  Princeton  men  at  least  are  sure  that 
an  efficient  policy  has  been  established  which  will 
be  followed  out  year  after  year,  and  that  the 
loyal  support  of  the  Alumni  is  behind  Rush. 

There  was  never  a  time  in  Yale's  history  when 
so  much  general  discussion  and  care  entered  into 
the  selection  of  its  football  coach  as  in  1915. 
From  the  long  list  of  Yale  football  graduates  the 
honor  was  bestowed  upon  Tad  Jones,  a  man 
whose  remarkable  playing  record  at  Yale  is  y^e\\ 
known.  Football  records  tell  of  his  wonderful 
runs.  His  personality  enables  him  to  get  close 
to  the  men,  and  he  was  wonderfully  successful  at 
Exeter,  coaching  his  old  school.  Tad  Jones  rep- 
resents one  of  the  highest  types  of  college 
athletes. 

In  1915  when  the  college  authorities  decided 
Columbia  might  re-enter  the  football  arena,  after 
a  lapse  of  ten  years,  it  was  a  wonderful  victory 
for  the  loyal  Columbia  football  suj^porters.     A 


382  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

most  thorough  and  exhaustive  search  was  then 
made  for  the  proper  man  to  teach  Columbia  the 
new  football.  The  man  who  won  the  Com- 
mittee's unanimous  vote  was  Thomas  N.  Met- 
calf,  who  plaj^ed  football  at  Oberlin,  Ohio.  Met- 
calf  earned  recognition  in  his  first  year.  He  re- 
alized that  Columbia's  re-entrance  into  football 
must  be  gradual,  and  his  schedule  was  arranged 
accordingly.  He  developed  Miller,  a  quarter- 
back who  stood  on  a  par  with  the  best  quar- 
terbacks in  1915.  Columbia  had  great  confi- 
dence in  Metcalf,  and  the  pick  of  the  old  men, 
notably  Tom  Thorp,  one  of  the  gamest  players 
any  team  ever  had,  volunteered  their  aid. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  football  coaches 
which  Pennsylvania  boasts  of  to-day,  is  Bob  Fol- 
well.  Always  a  brilliant  player,  full  of  spirit 
and  endowed  with  a  great  power  of  leadership, 
he  was  a  huge  success  as  a  coach  at  Lafayette. 
His  team  beat  Princeton.  At  Washington  and 
Jefferson,  he  beat  Yale  twice.  His  ability  as  a 
coach  was  watched  carefully  not  only  by  the 
graduates  of  Penn,  but  by  the  football  world  as 
a  whole. 

In  1916  this  hard-working,  energetic  up-to- 
date  coach  assumed  control  of  the  football  situa- 
tion on  Franklin  Field. 


CHAPTER  XX 
UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE 

THERE  is  a  group  of  individuals  connected 
with  football  to  whom  the  football  public 
pays  little  attention,  until  at  a  most  inop- 
portune time  in  the  game,  a  whistle  is  blown,  or 
a  horn  is  tooted  and  you  see  a  presumptuous  in- 
dividual stepping  off  a  damaging  five  yard  pen- 
alty against  your  favorite  team.  At  such  a  time 
you  arise  in  your  wrath  and  demand:  "Who  is 
that  guy  anyway?  Where  did  he  come  from? 
Why  did  he  give  that  penalty?"  Other  muf- 
fled tributes  are  paid  him. 

In  calmer  moments  you  realize  that  the  oiR- 
cials  are  the  caretakers  of  football.  They  see  to 
it  that  the  game  is  preserved  to  us  year  after 
year. 

An  official  is  generally  a  man  who  has  served 
his  time  as  a  player.  Those  days  over,  he  enters 
the  arena  as  Umpire,  Referee  or  Linesman. 

One  who  has  a  keen  desire  to  succeed  in  this 
line  of  work  ought  to  train  himself  properly  for 
the  season's  work.  In  anticipation  of  the  after- 
noon's work,  he  must  get  his  proper  sleep;  no 
night  cafes  or  late  hours  should  be  his  before  a 
big  contest. 

383 


384  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

The  workings  of  football  minds  towards  an  of- 
ficial are  most  narrow  and  critical  at  times.  The 
really  wise  official  will  remain  away  from  both 
teams  until  just  before  the  game,  lest  some  one 
accuse  him  of  being  too  familiar  with  the  other 
side.  He  can  offer  no  opinion  upon  the  game 
before  the  contest. 

Each  college  has  its  preferred  list  of  officials. 
Much  time  is  given  to  the  selection  of  officials  for 
the  different  games.  Before  a  man  can  be 
chosen  for  any  game  it  must  be  shown  that  he 
has  had  no  ancestors  at  either  of  the  colleges  in 
whose  game  he  will  act  and  that  he  is  always 
unprejudiced.  At  the  same  time  the  fact  that  a 
man  has  been  approved  as  a  football  official  by 
three  of  four  big  colleges  is  about  as  fine  a  foot- 
ball diploma  as  any  one  would  wish. 

For  the  larger  games  an  official  receives  one 
hundred  dollars  and  expenses,  ^'his  seems  a 
lot  of  money  for  an  afternoon's  work  just  for 
sport's  sake,  but  there  are  many  officials  on  the 
discarded  list  to-day  who  would  gladly  return 
all  the  money  they  ever  received,  if  they  could 
but  regain  their  former  popularity  and  prestige 
in  the  game.  Certainly  an  official  is  not  an  over- 
paid man. 

The  wise  official  arrives  at  tHe  field  only  a 
scant  half  hour  before  the  game.  Generally  the 
head  coach  sends  for  you,  and  as  he  takes  you  to 
a  secluded  spot  he  describes  in  his  most  serious 
way  an  important  play  he  will  use  in  the  game. 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        385 

He  tells  you  that  it  is  within  the  rules,  but  for 
some  curious  reason,  anxiously  asks  your  opin- 
ion. He  informs  you  that  the  opposing  team 
has  a  certain  play  which  is  clearly  illegal  and 
wants  you  to  watch  for  it  constantly.  He  fur- 
thermore warns  you  solemnly  that  the  other  team 
is  going  to  try  to  put  one  of  his  best  players  out 
of  the  game  and  beseeches  you  to  anticipate  this 
cowardly  action,  and  you  smile  inwardly.  Foot- 
ball seriousness  is  oftentimes  amusing.  Some  of 
our  best  Umpires  always  have  a  little  talk  with 
the  team  before  the  game. 

I  often  remember  the  old  days  when  Paul 
Dashiell,  the  famous  Umpire,  used  to  come  into 
our  dressing  room.  Standing  in  the  center  of  the 
room,  he  would  make  an  appeal  to  us  in  his  ear- 
nest, inimitable  way,  not  to  play  offside.  He 
would  explain  just  how  he  interpreted  holding 
and  the  use  of  arms  in  the  game.  He  would  urge 
us  to  be  thoroughbreds  and  to  play  the  game  fair; 
to  make  it  a  clean  game,  so  that  it  might  be  un- 
necessary to  inflict  penalties.  "Football,"  he 
would  say,  "is  a  game  for  the  players,  not  for 
the  officials."  Then  he  would  depart,  leaving 
behind  him  a  very  clear  conviction  with  us  that 
he  meant  business.  If  we  broke  the  rules  our 
team  would  unquestionably  suffer. 

Some  of  my  most  pleasant  football  recollec- 
tions are  those  gained  as  an  official  in  the  game. 
I  count  it  a  rare  privilege  to  have  worked  in  many 
games  year  after  year  where  I  came  in  close 


386  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

contact  with  the  players  on  different  college 
teams;  there  to  catch  their  spirit  and  to  see  the 
working  out  of  victories  and  defeats  at  close 
range. 

Here  it  is  that  one  comes  in  close  touch  with 
the  great  power  of  leadership,  that  "do  or  die" 
spirit,  which  makes  a  player  ready  to  go  in  a  lit- 
tle harder  with  each  play.  Knocked  over,  he 
comes  up  with  a  grin  and  sets  his  jaw  a  little 
stiifer  for  next  time. 

As  an  official  you  are  often  thrilled  as  you  see 
a  man  making  a  great  play ;  you  long  to  pat  him 
on  the  back  and  say,  "Well  done!"  If  you  see 
an  undiscovered  fumbled  ball  you  yearn  to  yell 
out — "Here  it  is !"  But  all  this  you  realize  can- 
not be  done  unless  one  momentarily  forgets  him- 
self like  John  Bell. 

"My  recollection  is  that  I  acted  as  an  official  in 
but  one  game,"  says  he.  "I  was  too  intense  a 
partisan.  Nevertheless,  I  was  pressed  into  serv- 
ice in  a  Lehigh-Penn  game  in  the  late  80s.  I  re- 
call that  Duncan  Spaeth,  now  Professor  of  Eng- 
lish at  Princeton  and  coach  of  the  Princeton 
crew,  was  playing  on  Pennsylvania's  team.  He 
made  a  long  run  with  the  ball ;  was  thrown  about 
the  20-yard  line ;  rose,  pushed  on  and  was  thrown 
again  between  the  5-  and  10-yard  line.  Refusing 
to  be  downed,  he  continued  to  roll  over  a  number 
of  times,  with  several  Lehigh  players  hanging  on 
to  him,  until  finally  he  was  stopped,  within  about 
a  foot  of  the  goal  hne.     Forgetting  his  official 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        387 

duties,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  it  is  al- 
leged that  the  referee  (myself)  jumped  up  and 
down  excitedly,  calhng  out :  'Roll  over,  Spaethy, 
just  once  more!'  And  Spaethy  did.  A  touch- 
down resulted.  But  the  Referee's  fate  after  the 
game  was  like  that  of  St.  Stephen — he  was 
stoned." 

In  the  old  days  one  official  used  to  handle  the 
entire  game.  A  man  would  even  officiate  in  a 
game  where  his  own  college  was  a  contestant. 
This  was  true  in  the  case  of  Walter  Camp,  Tracy 
Harris,  and  other  heroes  of  the  past.  Later  the 
number  of  officials  was  increased.  Such  a  list 
records  Wyllys  Terry,  Alex  Moffat,  Pa  Cor- 
bin,  Ray  Tompkins,  S.  V.  Coffin,  Appleton  and 
other  men  who  protected  the  game  in  the  early 
stages. 

Within  my  recollection,  for  many  years  the  two 
most  prominent,  as  well  as  most  efficient  officials, 
whose  names  were  always  coupled,  were  Mc- 
Clung,  Referee,  and  Dashiell,  Umpire.  No 
two  better  officials  ever  worked  together  and  there 
is  as  much  necessity  for  team  work  in  officiating 
as  there  is  in  playing.  Both  graduated  from  Le- 
high, and  the  prominent  position  that  they  took 
in  football  was  a  source  of  great  satisfaction  to 
their  university. 

Officials  come  and  go.  These  men  have  had 
their  day,  but  no  two  ever  contributed  better 
work.  The  game  of  Football  was  safe  in  their 
hands. 


388  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Paul  Dashiell  and  Walter  Camp  are  the  only- 
two  survivors  of  the  original  Rules  Committee. 

Dashiell's  Reminiscences 

"As  an  official,  the  first  big  game  I  umpired 
was  in  1894  between  Yale  and  Princeton,  follow- 
ing this  with  nine  consecutive  years  of  umpiring 
the  match,"  writes  Dashiell.  "After  Harvard 
and  Yale  resumed  relations,  I  umpired  their 
games  for  six  years  running.  I  officiated  in  prac- 
tically all  the  Harvard-Penn'  games  and  Penn'- 
Cornell  games  during  those  years,  as  well  as  many 
of  the  minor  games,  having  had  practically  every 
Saturday  taken  each  fall  during  those  twelve 
years,  so  I  saw  about  all  the  football  there  was. 
When  I  look  back  on  those  years  and  what  they 
taught  me  I  feel  that  I'd  not  be  without  them  for 
the  world.  They  showed  so  much  human  nature, 
so  many  hundreds  of  plucky  things,  mingled 
with  a  lot  of  mean  ones ;  such  a  show  of  manhood 
under  pressure.  I  learned  to  know  so  many 
wonderful  chaps  and  some  of  my  most  valued 
friendships  were  formed  at  those  times.  I  liked 
the  responsibility,  too ;  although  I  knew  that  from 
one  game  to  another  I  was  walking  on  ice  so 
thin  that  one  bad  mistake,  however  unintended, 
would  break  it. 

"The  rules  were  so  incomplete  that  common 
sense  was  needed  and,  frequently,  interpretation 
was  simply  by  mutual  consent.  Bitterness  of 
feeling  between  the  big  colleges  made  my  duties 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        389 

all  the  harder.  But  it  was  an  untold  satisfaction 
when  I  could  feel  that  I  had  done  well,  and  as  I 
said,  the  responsibility  had  its  fascination  and,  in 
the  main,  was  a  great  satisfaction. 

"And  then  came  the  inevitable,  a  foul  seen  only 
by  me,  which  called  for  an  immediate  penalty. 
This  led  to  scathing  criticism  and  accusations  of 
unfairness  by  many  that  did  not  understand  the 
incident,  altogether  leaving  a  sting  that  will  go 
down  with  me  to  my  grave  in  spite  of  my  happy 
recollections  of  the  game.  I  had  always  taken  a 
great  pride  in  the  job,  and  in  what  the  confidence 
of  the  big  universities  from  one  year  to  another 
meant.  I  knew  a  little  better  than  anybody  else 
how  conscientiously  I  had  tried  to  be  fair  and  to 
use  sense  and  judgment,  and  the  end  of  it  all  hurt 
a  lot. 

"One  friendship  was  made  in  these  years  that 
has  been  worth  more  than  words  can  tell.  I  re- 
fer to  that  of  Matthew  McClung.  To  be  known 
as  a  co-official  with  McClung  was  a  privilege  that 
only  those  who  knew  him  can  appreciate.  I  had 
known  him  before  at  Lehigh  in  his  undergrad- 
uate daj^s,  and  had  played  on  the  same  teams  with 
him.  In  after  years  we  were  officials  together 
in  a  great  many  of  the  big  games  where  feeling 
ran  high  and  manliness  and  fairness,  as  well  as 
judgment,  were  often  put  to  a  prett^''  severe  test 
at  short  notice.  Never  was  there  a  squarer 
sportsman,  or  a  fairer,  more  conscientious  and 
efficient  official ;  nor  a  truer,  more  gallant  type  of 


390  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

real  man  than  he.  His  early  death  took  out  of 
the  game  a  man  of  the  kind  we  can  ill  afford  to 
lose  and  no  tribute  that  I  could  pay  him  would 
be  high  enough. 

"One  night  after  a  Yale-Harvard  game  at 
Cambridge,  I  was  boarding  the  midnight  train  for 
New  York.  The  porter  had  my  bag,  and  as  we 
entered  the  car,  he  confided  in  me,  in  an  almost 
awestruck  tone,  that:  'Dad  dere  gentlemin  in  de 
smokin'  compartment  am  John  L.  Sullivan.' 

"I  crept  into  my  berth,  but  next  morning,  in 
the  washroom,  I  recognized  John  L.  as  the  only 
man  left.  He  emerged  from  his  basin  and 
asked: 

"  'Were  you  at  that  football  game  yesterday?' 
and  then  'Who  won?' 

"I  told  him,  and  by  way  of  making  conversa- 
tion, asked  him  if  he  was  interested  in  all  those 
outdoor  games.  But  his  voice  dropped  to  the 
sepulchral  and  confidential,  as  he  said: 

"  'There's  murder  in  that  game!' 

"I  answered:  'Well!  How  about  the  fight- 
ing game?' 

"He  came  back  with:  'Sparring!  It  doesn't 
'compare  in  roughness,  or  danger,  with  football. 
In  sparring  you  know  what  you  are  doing.  You 
know  what  your  opponent  is  trying  to  do,  and 
he's  right  there  in  front  of  you,  and,  there's  only 
one!  But  in  football!  Say,  there's  twenty-two 
people  trying  to  do  you!' 
.     "There  being  only  twenty-one  other  than  the 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        391 

player  concerned,  I  could  not  but  infer  that  he 
meant  to  indicate  the  umpire  as  the  twenty- 
second." 

My  Personal  Experiences 

In  my  experience  as  an  official  I  recall  the  fact 
that  I  began  officiating  as  a  Referee,  and  had 
been  engaged  and  notified  in  the  regular  way  to 
referee  the  Penn'-Harvard  game  on  Franklin 
Field  in  1905.  When  I  arrived  at  the  field, 
McClung  was  the  other  official.  He  had  never 
umpired  but  had  always  acted  as  a  Referee.  In 
my  opinion  a  man  should  be  either  Referee  or 
Umpire.  Each  position  requires  a  different 
kind  of  exjDerience  and  I  do  not  believe  offi- 
cials can  successfully  interchange  these  positions. 
Those  who  have  officiated  can  appreciate  the  pre- 
dicament I  was  in,  especially  just  at  that  time 
w^hen  there  was  so  much  talk  of  football  reform, 
by  means  of  changing  the  rules,  changing  the 
style  of  the  game,  stopping  mass  plays.  How- 
ever, I  consented ;  for  appreciating  that  JNIcClung 
was  sincere  in  his  statement  that  he  would  do 
nothing  but  referee,  I  was  forced  to  accept  the 
[Umpire's  task. 

It  was  a  game  full  of  intense  rivalry.  The 
desire  to  win  was  carrying  the  men  beyond  the 
bounds  of  an  ordinarily  spirited  contest,  and  the 
Umpire's  job  proved  a  most  severe  task.  It  was 
in  this  game  that  either  four  or  five  men  were  dis- 
qualified. 


392  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

I  continued  several  years  after  this  in  the  ca- 
pacity of  Umpire.  One  unfortunate  experience 
as  Umpire  came  as  a  result  of  a  penalty  inflicted 
upon  Wauseka,  an  Indian  player  who  had 
tackled  too  vigorously  a  Penn'  player  who  was 
out  of  bounds.  Much  wrangling  ensued  and  a 
policeman  was  called  upon  the  field.  It  was  the 
quickest  way  to  keep  the  game  from  getting  out 
of  hand. 

Washington  and  Jefferson  played  the  Indians 
at  Pittsburgh  some  years  ago.  I  acted  as  Um- 
pire. The  game  was  played  in  a  driving  rain 
storm  and  a  muddier  field  I  never  saw.  The 
players,  as  well  as  the  officials,  were  covered  with 
mud.  In  fact  my  sweater  was  saturated,  the 
players  having  used  it  as  a  sort  of  towel  to  dry 
their  hands.  A  kicked  ball  had  been  fumbled  on 
the  goal  line  and  there  was  a  battle  royal  on  the 
part  of  the  players  to  get  the  coveted  ball.  I 
dived  into  the  scramble  of  wriggling,  mud- 
covered  players  to  detect  the  man  who  might 
have  the  ball.  The  stockings  and  jerseys  of  the 
players  were  so  covered  with  mud  that  you  could 
not  tell  them  apart.  As  I  was  forcing  my  way 
down  into  the  mass  of  players  I  heard  a  man 
shouting  for  dear  life:  "I'm  an  Indian!  I'm 
an  Indian!     It's  my  ball!" 

When  I  finally  got  hold  of  the  fellow  with 
the  ball  I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  whether 
he  was  an  Indian  or  not.  However,  I  held  up 
the  decision  until  some  one  got  a  bucket  and 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        393 

sponge  and  the  player's  face  was  mopped  off, 
whereupon  I  saw  that  he  was  an  Indian  all  right. 
He  had  scored  a  touchdown  for  his  team. 

An  official  in  the  game  is  subject  to  all  sorts 
of  criticisms  and  abuse.  Sometimes  they  are 
humorous  and  others  have  a  sting  which  is  not 
readily  forgotten. 

I  admit,  on  account  of  my  size,  there  were 
times  in  a  game  when  I  would  get  in  a  player's 
way;  sometimes  in  the  spectators'  way.  During 
a  Yale-Harvard  game,  in  which  I  was  acting  as 
an  official,  the  plaj'-  came  close  to  the  side  line, 
and  I  had  taken  my  position  directly  between  the 
players  and  the  spectators,  when  some  kind  friend 
from  the  bleachers  yelled  out: 

"Get  off  the  field,  how  do  you  expect  us  to  see 
the  game?" 

I  shall  never  forget  one  poor  little  fellow  who 
had  recovered  a  fumbled  ball,  while  on  top  of 
him  was  a  wriggling  mass  of  players  trying  to 
get  the  ball.  As  I  slowly,  but  surely,  forced  my 
way  down  through  the  pile  of  players  I  finally 
landed  on  top  of  him.  I  shall  never  forget  how 
he  grunted  and  j^elled,  "Six  or  seven  of  you  fel- 
lows get  off  of  me." 

It  was  in  the  same  game  that  some  man  from 
the  bleachers  called  out  as  I  was  running  up  the 
field:     "Here  comes  the  Beef  Trust." 

There  was  a  coach  of  a  Southern  college  who 
tried  to  put  over  a  new  one  on  me,  when  I  caught 
him  coaching  from  the  side  lines  in  a  game  with 


394  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Pennsylvania  on  Franklin  Field.  I  first  warned 
him,  and  when  he  persisted  in  the  offense,  I  put 
him  behind  the  ropes,  on  a  bench,  besides  impos- 
ing the  regular  penalty.  It  was  not  long  after 
this,  that  I  discovered  he  had  left  the  bench.  I 
found  him  again  on  the  side  line,  wearing  a  heavy 
ulster  and  change  of  hat  to  disguise  himself,  but 
this  quick  change  artist  promptly  got  the  gate. 

I  knew  a  player  who  had  an  opportunity  to 
get  back  at  an  official,  but  there  was  no  rule  to 
meet  the  situation.  A  penalty  had  been  imposed, 
because  the  player  had  used  improper  language. 
A  heated  argument  followed,  and  I  am  afraid  the 
Umpire  was  guilty  of  a  like  offense,  when  the 
player  exclaimed: 

"Well!  Well!  Why  don't  you  penalize 
yourself?" 

He  surely  was  right.  I  should  have  been  pe- 
nalized. 

One  sometimes  unconsciously  fails  to  deal  out 
a  kindness  for  a  courtesy  done.  That  was  my 
experience  in  a  Harvard-Yale  game  at  Cam- 
bridge one  year.  On  the  morning  before  the 
game,  while  I  was  at  the  Hotel  Touraine,  I  was 
making  an  earnest  effort  to  get,  what  seemed 
almost  impossible,  a  seat  for  a  friend  of  mine.  I 
had  finally  purchased  one  for  ten  dollars,  and  so 
made  known  the  fact  to  two  or  three  of  my  friends 
in  the  corridor.  About  this  time  a  tall,  athletic 
chap,  who  had  heard  that  I  wanted  an  extra 
ticket,  volunteered  to  get  me  one  at  the  regular 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        395 

price,  which  he  succeeded  in  doing.  I  had  no 
difficulty  in  returning  my  speculator's  ticket.  I 
thanked  the  fellow  cordially  for  getting  me  the 
ticket.  I  did  not  see  him  again  until  late  that 
afternoon  when  the  game  was  nearly  over.  Some 
rough  work  in  one  of  the  scrimmages  compelled 
me  to  withdraw  one  of  the  Harvard  players  from 
the  game.  As  I  walked  with  him  to  the  side  lines, 
I  glanced  at  his  face,  only  to  recognize  my  friend 
— the  ticket  producer.  The  umpire's  task  then 
became  harder  than  ever,  as  I  gave  him  a  seat  on 
the  side  line.     That  player  was  Vic  Kennard. 

Evarts  Wrenn,  one  of  our  foremost  officials  a 
few  years  ago,  has  had  some  interesting  experi- 
ences of  his  own. 

"While  umpiring  a  game  between  Michigan 
and  Ohio  State,  at  Columbus,"  he  says,  "Heston, 
^lichigan's  fullback,  carrying  the  ball,  broke 
through  the  line,  was  tackled  and  thrown;  re- 
covered his  feet,  started  again,  was  tackled  and 
thrown  again,  threw  off  his  tacklers  only  to  be 
thrown  again.  Again  he  broke  awaj^  All  this 
time  I  was  backing  up  in  front  of  the  play.  As 
Heston  broke  away  from  the  last  tacklers,  I 
backed  suddenly  into  the  outstretched  arms  of 
the  Ohio  State  fullback,  who,  it  appears,  had 
been  backing  up  step  by  step  with  me.  Heston 
ran  thirty  yards  for  a  touchdown.  You  can  im- 
agine how  unpopular  I  was  with  the  home  team, 
and  how  ridiculous  my  plight  appeared. 

"Another  instance  occurred  in  a  Chicao:o-Cor- 


396  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

nell  game  at  Marshall  Field,"  Wrenn  goes  on  to 
say.  "You  know  it  always  seems  good  to  an 
official  to  get  through  a  game  without  having  to 
make  any  disagreeable  decisions.  I  was  con- 
gratulating myself  on  having  got  through  this 
game  so  fortunately.  As  I  was  hurrying  off  the 
field,  I  was  stopped  by  the  little  Cornell  trainer, 
who  had  been  very  much  in  evidence  on  the  side 
lines  during  the  game.     He  called  to  me. 

"  'Mr.  Wrenn'  (and  I  straightened,  chucking 
out  my  chest  and  getting  my  hand  ready  for  con- 
gratulations) .     'That  was  the piece  of 

umpiring  I  ever  saw  in  my  life.'  I  cannot  de- 
scribe my  feelings.  I  was  standing  there  with 
my  mouth  open  when  he  had  got  yards  away." 

Dan  Hurley,  who  was  captain  of  the  1904  Har- 
vard team,  writes  me,  as  follows : 

"Football  rules  are  changed  from  year  to  year. 
The  causes  of  these  changes  are  usually  new 
points  which  have  arisen  the  year  previous  dur- 
ing football  games.  A  good  many  rules  are 
interpreted  according  to  the  judgment  of  each 
individual  official.  I  remember  two  points  that 
arose  in  the  Harvard-Penn'  game  in  1904,  at 
Soldiers'  Field.  In  this  year  there  was  great 
rivalry  between  the  players  representing  Har- 
vard and  Pennsylvania.  The  contest  was  sharp 
and  bitterly  fought  all  the  way  through.  Both 
teams  had  complained  frequently  to  Edwards, 
the  Umpire.  Finally  he  caught  two  men  red- 
handed,  so  to  speak.     There  was  no  argument. 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        397 

'Both  men  admitted  it.  It  so  happened  that 
both  men  were  very  valuable  to  their  respec- 
tive teams.  The  loss  of  either  man  would  be 
greatly  felt.  Both  captains  cornered  Edwards 
and  both  agreed  that  he  was  perfectly  right  in  his 
contention  that  both  men  should  have  to  leave  the 
field,  but — and  it  was  this  that  caused  the  new 
rule  to  be  enforced  the  next  year.  Both  captains 
suggested  that  they  were  perfectly  willing  for 
both  men  to  remain  in  the  game  despite  the  pen- 
alty, and  with  eager  faces  both  captains  watched 
Edwards'  face  as  he  pondered  whether  he  should 
or  should  not  permit  them  to  remain  in  the  game. 
He  did,  however,  allow  both  to  play.  Of  course, 
this  ruling  was  establishing  a  dangerous  prece- 
dent; therefore,  the  next  year  the  Rules  Com- 
mittee incorporated  a  new  rule  to  the  effect  that 
two  captains  of  opposing  teams  could  not  by 
mutual  agreement  permit  a  player  who  ought  to 
be  removed  for  committing  a  foul  to  remain  in 
the  game." 

Bill  Crowell  of  Swarthmore,  later  a  coach  at 
Lafayette,  is  another  official  who  has  had  curi- 
ous experiences. 

"In  a  Lehigh-Indian  game  a  few  years  ago  at 
South  Bethlehem,  in  which  I  was  acting  as  ref- 
eree," he  says,  "in  the  early  part  of  the  game  Le- 
high held  Carlisle  for  four  downs  inside  of  the 
three-yard  line,  and  when  on  the  last  try,  Powell, 
the  Indian  back,  failed  to  take  it  over,  contrary 
to  the  opinion  of  Warner,  their  coach.     I  called 


398  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

but,  'Lehigh's  ball,*  and  moved  behind  the  LehigH 
team  which  was  forming  to  take  the  ball  out  of 
danger.  Just  before  the  ball  was  snapped,  and 
everything  was  quiet  in  the  stands,  Warner 
called  across  the  field: 

"  'Hey !  Crowell !  you're  the  best  defensive  man 
Lehigh's  got.' " 

Phil  Draper,  famous  in  Williams  football,  and 
without  doubt  one  of  the  greatest  half  backs  that 
ever  played,  also  served  his  time  as  an  official. 
He  says: 

"From  my  experience  as  an  official,  I  believe 
that  most  of  their  troubles  come  from  the  coaches. 
If  things  are  not  going  as  well  with  their  team 
as  they  ought  to  go,  they  have  a  tendency  to 
blame  it  on  the  officials  in  order  to  protect  them- 
selves." 

"There  was,  in  my  playing  days,  as  now,  the 
usual  controversy  in  reference  to  the  officials  of 
the  game,"  says  Wyllys  Terry,  "and  the  same 
controversies  arose  in  those  days  in  regard  to  the 
decisions  which  were  given.  My  sympathies 
have  always  been  with  the  officials  in  the  game  in 
all  decisions  that  they  have  rendered.  It  is  im- 
possible for  them  to  see  everything,  but  when 
they  come  to  make  a  decision  they  are  the  only 
ones  that  are  on  the  spot  and  simply  have  to  de- 
cide on  what  thej'-  see  at  the  moment. 

"It  is  a  difficult  position.  Thousands  say  you 
are  right,  thousands  say  you  are  wrong — but  my 
belief  has  always  been  that  nine  times  out  of  ten 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        399 

the  official's  decision  is  correct.  It  was  my  mis- 
fortune to  officiate  in  but  one  large  game;  that 
between  Harvard  and  Princeton  in  the  fall  of 
'87.  This  was  the  year  that  there  was  a  great 
outcry  regarding  the  rules,  particularly  in  ref- 
erence to  tackling.  It  was  decided  that  a  tackle 
below  the  waist  was  a  foul  and  the  penalty  was 
disqualification.  I  was  appointed  Umpire  in  the 
Harvard-Princeton  game  of  that  year.  Before 
the  game  I  called  the  teams  together  and  told 
them  what  the  representatives  of  the  three  col- 
leges had  agreed  upon.  They  had  authorized 
me  to  carry  the  rules  out  in  strict  accordance 
with  their  instructions  and  I  proposed  to  do  so. 
In  the  early  part  of  the  game  there  was  a  scrim- 
mage on  one  side  of  the  field  and  after  the  mass 
had  been  cleared  away,  I  heard  somebody  call 
for  me.  On  looking  around  I  found  that  the 
call  came  from  Holden,  Captain  of  the  Harvard 
team.  He  called  my  attention  to  the  fact  that 
he  was  still  being  tackled  and  that  the  man  had 
both  his  arms  around  his  knee,  with  his  head  rest- 
ing on  it.  He  demanded,  under  the  agreed  in- 
terpretation of  the  rules,  that  the  tackle  be  de- 
cided a  foul,  and  that  the  man  be  disqualified  and 
sent  from  the  field.  The  question  of  intent  was 
not  allowed  me,  for  I  had  to  decide  on  the  facts 
as  they  presented  themselves.  The  result  was 
that  Cowan,  one  of  the  most  powerful,  and  one 
of  the  best  linemen  that  ever  stood  on  a  football 
field,    was    disqualified.     The    Captain    of   the 


400  FOOTBALL  DAYS] 

Princeton  team  remarked  at  the  time,  'I  would 
rather  have  any  three  men  disquahfied  than 
Cowan.'  As  the  game  up  to  that  time  had  been 
very  close,  and  the  Princeton  sympathizers  were 
sure  of  victory,  I  believe  I  was  the  most  cordially 
hated  ex-football  player  that  ever  existed. 
Shortly  after  this  the  Harvard  men  had  the 
Princeton  team  near  their  goal  line  and  in  pos- 
session of  the  ball.  Two  linemen  used  their 
hands,  which  on  the  offense  is  illegal,  and  made 
a  hole  through  which  the  Harvard  half-back 
passed  and  crossed  the  line  for  a  touchdown  amid 
tremendous  cheers  from  the  Harvard  contingent. 
This  touchdown  was  not  allowed  by  the  Umpire. 
Again  I  was  the  most  hated  football  man  that 
lived,  so  far  as  Harvard  was  concerned.  The 
result  was  I  had  no  friends  on  either  side  of  the 
field. 

"After  the  game,  in  talking  it  over  with  Wal- 
ter Camp,  he  assured  me  that  the  decisions  had 
been  correct,  but  that  he  was  very  glad  he  had 
not  had  to  make  them.  In  spite  of  these  deci- 
sions, I  was  asked  to  umpire  in  a  number  of  big 
games  the  next  year:  but  that  one  experience 
had  been  enough  for  me.  I  never  appeared 
again  in  that  or  any  other  official  capacity.  I 
have  been  trying  for  the  last  thirty-two  years  to 
get  back  the  friends  which,  before  that  game, 
I  had  in  both  Princeton  and  Harvard  circles, 
with  only  a  fair  amount  of  success." 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        401 

I  have  always  considered  it  a  great  privilege 
to  have  been  associated  as  an  official  in  the  game 
with  Pa  Corbin.  I  know  of  no  man  that  ever 
worked  as  earnestly  and  intelligently  to  carry 
out  his  official  duties,  and  year  after  year  he  has 
kept  up  his  interest  in  the  game,  not  only  as  a 
coach,  but  as  a  thoroughly  competent  official. 

As  a  favorite  with  all  colleges  his  services  were 
eagerly  sought.     He  recollects  the  following: — 

*'The  experience  that  made  as  much  of  an 
impression  upon  me  as  any,  was  the  game  with 
Penn-Lafayette  which  came  just  after  the  expe- 
rience of  the  year  before  which  developed  so 
much  rough  play.  The  man  agreed  upon  for 
Umpire,  did  not  appear,  and  after  waiting  a 
while  the  two  captains  came  to  me  and  asked  if 
I  would  umpire  in  addition  to  acting  as  referee. 
I  accused  them  of  conspiracy  to  put  me  entirely 
out  of  business,  but  they  insisted  and  I  reluc- 
tantly acquiesced.  I  told  both  teams  that  I 
would  be  so  busy  that  I  would  have  no  time  for 
arguments  or  even  investigation  and  any  move 
that  seemed  to  me  like  roughness  would  be  penal- 
ized to  the  full  extent  of  the  rules  regardless  of 
whom  he  was  or  of  how  many.  The  result  was 
that  it  was  one  of  the  most  decent  games  and  in 
fact  almost  gentlemanly  that  I  have  ever  experi- 
enced." 

Joe  Pendleton  has  been  an  official  for  twenty 
years.     He  is  an  alert,  conscientious  officer  in  the 


402  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

game.  I  Have  worked  many  times  with  Joe  and 
he  is  a  very  interesting  partner  in  the  official  end 
of  the  game. 

In  the  fall  of  1915  Joe  had  a  very  severe  ill- 
ness and  his  absence  from  the  football  field  was 
deeply  regretted. 

Joe  always  wore  his  old  Bowdoin  sweater  and 
when  out  upon  the  field,  the  big  B  on  the  chest 
of  Joe's  white  sweater  almost  covered  him  up. 

"A  few  years  ago  I  had  occasion  to  remove  a 
player  from  a  game  for  a  foul  play,"  says  Joe, 
"and  in  a  second  the  quarterback  was  telling  me 
of  my  mistake.  'Why,  you  can't  put  that  man 
out,'  he  said,  and  when  I  questioned  him  as  to 
where  he  got  such  a  mistaken  idea,  his  reply  was : 

"  'Why,  he  is  our  captain!' 

"In  another  game  after  the  umpire  had  dis- 
qualified a  player  for  kicking  an  opponent,  the 
offending  player  appealed  to  me,  basing  his  claim 
on  the  ground  that  he  had  not  kicked  the  man 
until  after  the  whistle  had  been  blown  and  the 
play  was  over.  Another  man  on  the  same  team 
claimed  exemption  from  a  penalty  on  the  ground 
that  he  had  slugged  his  opponent  while  out  of 
bounds.  He  actually  believed  that  we  could  not 
penalize  for  fouls  off  tlie  playing  field. 

"The  funniest  appeal  I  ever  had  made  to  me 
was  made  by  a  player  years  ago  who  asked  that 
time  be  taken  out  in  order  that  he  might  change 
a  perfectly  good  jersey  for  one  of  a  different 
color.     It  seems  he  had  lost  his  jersey  and  had 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        403 

borrowed  one  from  a  player  on  the  home  team. 
When  I  asked  him  why  he  wanted  to  change  his 
jersey  he  rephed: 

"  'Because  my  own  team  are  kicking  the  stuff- 
ing out  of  me  and  I  must  get  a  different  colored 
jersey.  At  times  my  team  mates  take  me  for  an 
opponent.' 

"In  a  game  where  it  was  necessary  to  caution 
the  players  against  talking  too  much  to  their  op- 
ponents one  particularly  curious  incident  oc- 
curred. 

"One  team,  in  order  to  give  one  of  the  larger 
college  elevens  a  stiff  practice  game,  had  put  in 
the  field  two  or  three  ringers.  The  big  college 
team  men  were  rather  suspicious  that  their  op- 
ponents were  not  entirely  made  up  of  bona  fide 
students.  A  big  tackle  on  the  larger  team  made 
the  following  remark  to  a  supposed  ringer : 

"  'I'll  bet  you  five  to  one  you  cannot  name  the 
president  of  your  college.'  The  answer  came 
back,  'Well,  old  boy,  perhaps  I  can't,  but  per- 
haps I  can  show  you  how  to  play  tackle  and  that's 
all  I'm  here  for.'  " 

The  Princeton- Yale  game  of  1915  was  one  of 
the  most  bitterly  contested  in  the  history  of  foot- 
ball. Princeton  was  a  strong  favorite,  but  Yale 
forced  the  fighting  and  had  their  opponents 
on  the  defensive  almost  from  the  beginning. 
Princeton's  chances  were  materially  hurt  by  a 
number  of  severe  penalties  which  cost  her  con- 
siderably in  excess  of  one  hundred  yards.     Each 


404  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

of  the  officials  had  a  hand  in  the  infliction  of  the 
penalties,  but  the  Referee,  who  happened  to  be 
Nate  Tufts  of  Brown,  had,  of  course,  to  enforce 
them  all  by  marking  off  the  distance  give  to  Yale 
and  putting  the  ball  in  the  proper  place. 

In  the  evening  after  the  game,  a  number  of 
football  officials  and  others  were  dining  in  New 
York;  in  the  party  was  a  Princeton  graduate, 
who  was  introduced  to  Mr.  Tufts,  the  Referee  of 
the  game  of  the  afternoon.  At  the  introduction 
the  Princeton  man  remarked  that  when  he  was 
a  boy  he  had  read  of  Jesse  James,  the  McCoy 
brothers,  and  other  noted  bandits  and  train  rob- 
bers, but  that  he  took  off  his  hat  to  Mr.  Tufts  as 
the  king  of  them  all. 

Okeson,  a  star  player  of  Lehigh  and  prominent 
official,  recalls  this  game: 

"In  1908  I  umpired  in  a  memorable  game 
which  took  place  at  New  Haven  between  Yale 
and  Princeton,  which  resulted  in  a  victory  for 
Yale,  12-10.  This  was  before  any  rule  was  in- 
serted calling  for  the  Referee  to  notify  the  teams 
to  appear  on  the  field  at  the  beginning  of  the 
second  half.  At  that  time  a  ten-minute  inter- 
mission was  allowed  between  the  halves.  The 
first  half  closed  with  the  score  10-0  in  favor  o? 
Princeton.  At  the  end  of  about  seven  minutes 
Mike  Thompson,  who  was  Referee,  following 
the  custom  that  had  grown  up,  although  no  rule 
required  it,  left  the  field  to  notify  the  teams  to 
return.     When  he  came  back*  I  asked  him  if  he 


UMPIRE  AND  REFEREE        405 

had  found  them,  for  on  the  old  Yale  Field  it  was 
something  of  a  job  to  locate  the  teams  once  they 
had  passed  through  the  gates.  Mike  said  that 
they  were  in  the  Field  House  on  the  other  side  of 
the  baseball  field  and  that  he  had  called  in  to 
them.  The  Princeton  players  appeared  in  a  min- 
ute or  two,  but  no  sign  of  Yale.  Finally,  getting 
suspicious,  Mike  asked  Bill  Roper,  who  was 
head  coach  at  Princeton  that  year,  if  the  Yale 
team  had  been  in  the  Field  House.  The  answer 
was  'No,'  and  we  suddenly  woke  up  to  the  fact 
that  although  time  for  the  intermission  had  ended 
three  or  four  minutes  before,  the  Yale  team  was 
not  notified,  and  furthermore,  no  one  knew  where 
they  were  except  that  they  were  somewhere  un- 
der the  stands.  There  were  many  gates  and  to 
leave  by  one  to  search  meant  running  a  chance 
that  the  Yale  team  might  appear  almost  imme- 
diately through  another  and  then  the  game  be 
further  delayed  by  the  absence  of  the  Referee. 
This  being  the  case,  JNIike  had  no  choice  but  to  do 
as  he  did,  namely,  send  messengers  through  all 
gates.  One  of  these  messengers  met  the  Yale 
team  coming  along  under  the  stands.  The 
coaches  had  decided  that  time  must  be  up,  al- 
though none  of  them  had  kept  a  record  of  it,  and 
had  started  back  finally  without  any  notice. 
Eight  minutes  over  the  legal  ten  had  been  taken 
before  they  appeared  on  the  field  and  Bill  Roper 
was  raging.  As  Yale  won  in  the  second  half  it 
was  only  natural  that  we  officials  were  greatly 


406  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

censored  by  Princeton,  and  Yale  did  not  escape 
criticism.  Yet  the  whole  thing  came  from  the 
fact  that  a  custom  had  grown  up  of  depending 
on  the  Referee  to  find  and  bring  the  teams  back 
to  the  field  instead  of  each  team  either  staying 
on  the  field,  or  failing  that,  taking  the  responsi- 
bility on  themselves  of  getting  back  in  time. 
Yale  simply  followed  the  usual  custom  and  'Mike' 
was  misled  due  to  being  told  that  both  teams  had 
gone  to  the  Field  House  by  one  of  those  ready 
volunteers  who  furnish  information  whether  they 
know  anything  about  the  subject  in  hand  or  not." 


CHAPTER  XXI 
CRASH  OF  CONFLICT 

THE  start  of  a  football  game  is  most  excit- 
ing; not  alone  for  the  players,  but  for 
the  spectators  as  well.  Every  one  is 
keyed  up  in  anticipation  of  the  contest.  The 
referee's  whistle  blows;  the  ball  is  kicked  off — 
the  game  has  begun. 

Opponents  now  meet  face  to  face  on  the  field 
of  battle.  What  happens  on  the  gridiron  is 
plainly  seen  by  the  spectators,  but  it  is  not  pos- 
sible for  them  to  hear  the  conversations  which 
take  place.  There  is  much  good  natured  josh- 
ing between  the  players,  which  brings  out  the 
humorous  as  well  as  the  serious  side  of  the  con- 
test. In  a  game,  and  during  the  hard  days  of 
practice,  many  remarks  are  made  which,  if  over- 
heard, would  give  the  spectators  an  insight  into 
the  personal,  human  side  of  the  sport. 

It  behooves  every  team  to  make  the  most  of  the 
first  five  minutes  of  play.  Every  coach  in  the 
country  will  tell  his  team  to  get  the  charge  on 
their  opponents  from  tiie  start.  A  good  start 
usually  means  a  good  ending. 

From  the  side  lines  we  see  the  men  put  their 
shoulders  to  their  work,  charging  and  pushing 

40T 


408  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

their  opponents  aside  to  make  a  hole  in  the  line, 
through  which  the  man  with  the  ball  may  gain 
his  distance ;  or  we  may  see  a  man  on  the  defen- 
sive, full  of  grim  determination  to  meet  the  on- 
coming charges  of  his  opponent.  As  we  glance 
at  the  accompanying  picture  of  a  Yale- West 
Point  game,  we  will  observe  the  earnest  effort 
that  is  being  made  in  the  great  game  of  football — 
the  crash  of  conflict. 

One  particularly  amusing  story  is  told  about  a 
former  Lehigh  player  in  a  Princeton  game  sev- 
eral years  ago. 

"After  the  match  had  been  in  progress  twenty 
minutes  or  more,"  says  a  Princeton  man  who 
played,  "we  began  to  show  a  large  number  of 
bruises  on  our  faces.  This  was  especially  the 
case  with  House  Janeway,  whose  opponent,  at 
tackle,  was  a  big  husky  Lehigh  player.  Jane- 
way  finally  became  suspicious  of  the  big  husky, 
whose  arms  often  struck  him  during  the  scrim- 
mage. 

*'  'What  have  you  got  on  your  arm?'  shouted 
Janeway  at  his  adversary. 

"  *Never  you  mind.  I'm  playing  my  game,' 
was  the  big  tackle's  retort. 

"Janeway  insisted  that  the  game  be  stopped 
temporarily  for  an  inspection.  The  Lehigh 
tackle  demurred.  Hector  Cowan,  whose  face 
had  suffered,  backed  up  Janeway's  demand. 

"  'Have  you  anything  on  your  arm?'  demanded 
the  referee  of  the  Lehigh  player. 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  409 

"  *My  sleeve,'  was  the  curt  reply. 

*' '  Well,  turn  up  your  sleeve  then.' 

"The  big  tackle  was  forced  to  comply  with  the 
oflScial's  request,  and  disclosed  a  silver  bracelet. 

"  'Either  take  that  off  or  go  out  of  the  game,' 
was  the  referee's  orders. 

"  'But  I  promised  a  girl  friend  that  I  would 
wear  it  through  the  match,'  protested  Lehigh's 
tackle.  'I  can't  take  it  off.  Don't  you  under- 
stand— it  was  wished  on!' 

"  'Well!  I  "wish"  it  off,'  the  referee  repHed. 
*This  is  no  society  affair.' 

"The  big  tackle  objected  to  this,  declaring  he 
would  sooner  quit  the  game  than  be  disloyal  to 
the  girl. 

"  *Then  you  will  quit,'  was  the  command  of  the 
umpire,  and  the  big  tackle  left  the  field,  a  sub- 
stitute taking  his  place." 

Lueder,  a  Cornell  tackle,  one  of  the  best  in  his 
day,  mentions  a  personal  affair  that  occurred  in 
the  Penn  game  in  1900,  between  Blondy  Wal- 
lace and  himself. 

Blondy's  friends  when  they  read  this  will  think 
he  had  an  off  day  in  his  general  football  courtesy. 
Lueder  states: 

"A^Tien  I  was  trying  to  take  advantage  of  my 
opponent,  I  was  outwitted  and  was  told  to  play 
on  the  square.  I  took  Wallace's  advice  and 
never  played  a  nicer  game  of  football  in  my  life. 
Just  this  little  reprimand,  from  an  older  player, 
taught  me  a  lot  of  football." 


410  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

In  the  Yale-Brown  game,  back  in  1898,  RicH- 
ardson,  that  wonderful  Brown  quarter-back,  re- 
ceived the  ball  on  a  double  pass  from  Dave  Fultz 
and  ran  65-yards  before  he  was  downed  by 
Charlie  de  Saulles,  the  Yale  quarterback,  on 
Yale's  5-yard  line.  When  Richardson  got  up,  he 
turned  to  de  Saulles  and  said: 

"You  fool,  why  did  you  tackle  me?  I  lost  a 
chance  to  be  a  hero." 

Yale,  by  the  way,  won  that  game  by  a  score  of 
18  to  14. 

Yost  relates  a  humorous  experience  he  had  at 
Michigan  in  1901,  which  was  his  most  successful 
season  at  that  University. 

"Buffalo  University  came  to  Michigan  with  a 
much-heralded  team.  They  were  coached  by  a 
Dartmouth  man  and  had  not  been  scored  upon. 
Buffalo  papers  referred  to  Michigan  as  the 
Woolly  Westerners,  and  the  Buffalo  enthusiasts 
placed  bets  that  Michigan  would  not  score.  The 
time  regulation  of  the  game,  two  halves,  was 
thirty-five  minutes,  without  intermission.  At  the 
end  of  the  first  half  the  score  was  65  to  0.  Dur- 
ing this  time  many  substitutions  had  been  made, 
some  nineteen  or  twenty  men,  so  that  every 
player  Buffalo  brought  with  them  had  at  one 
time  or  another  participated  in  the  game. 

"The  Buffalo  coach  came  to  me  and  said: 

"  'Yost,  we  will  have  to  cut  this  next  half 
short.' 

"  'Why?'  I  asked.     Of  course,  I  did  not  real- 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  411 

,■&"» 

ize  that  every  available  man  he  had  with  him  was 
used  up,  but  I  felt  rather  liberal  at  that  stage 
of  the  game  and  said : 

"  'Let  them  rest  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  for 
the  intermission,  and  then  use  them  over  again; 
use  them  as  often  as  you  like.     I  don't  care.' 

"About  fifteen  minutes  after  the  second  half 
had  started,  I  discovered  on  JMichigan's  side  of 
the  field,  covered  up  in  a  blanket,  a  big  fellow 
named  Simpson,  one  of  the  Buffalo  players.  I 
was  naturally  curious,  and  said: 

"'Simpson,  what  are  you  doing  over  here? 
You  are  on  the  wrong  side.' 

*'  'Don't  say  anything,'  came  the  quick  re- 
sponse, 'I  know  where  I  am  at.  The  coach  has 
put  me  in  three  times  ah'eady  and  I'm  not  going 
in  there  again.  Enough  is  enough  for  any  one. 
I've  had  mine." 

"The  score  was  then  120  to  0,  in  favor  of  Mich- 
igan, and  the  Buffalo  team  quit  fifteen  minutes 
before  the  game  should  have  ended. 

"It  may  be  interesting  to  note  that  from  this 
experience  of  Buffalo  with  Michigan  the  expres- 
sion, 'I've  got  you  Buffaloed,'  is  said  to  have 
originated,  and  to-day  INIichigan  players  use  it 
as  a  fighting  word." 

Yost  smiled  triumphantly  as  he  related  the 
following : 

"The  day  we  played  the  JNIichigan  Agricul- 
tural College  we,  of  course,  were  at  our  best. 
The  31.  A.  C.  was  taken  on  as  a  preliminary 


412  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

game,  which  was  to  be  two  twenty-minute  halves. 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  second  half  the  score 
was  118  to  0,  in  favor  of  Michigan. 

"At  this  time,  a  big  husky  tackle,  after  a  very 
severe  scrimmage  had  taken  place,  stood  up,  took 
off  his  head  gear,  threw  it  across  the  field  and 
started  for  the  side  line,  passing  near  where  I  was 
standing,  when  I  yelled  at  him : 

"  'The  game  is  not  over  yet.     Go  back.' 

"  'Oh,'  he  said,  'we  came  down  here  to  get  some 
experience.  I've  had  all  I  want.  Let  the  other 
fellows  stay,  if  they  want  to;  me  for  the  dressing 
room/ 

"And  when  this  fellow  quit,  all  the  other  M.  A. 
C.  players  stopped,  and  the  game  ended  right 
there.     There  were  but  four  minutes  left  to  play." 

Somebody  circulated  a  rumor  that  Yost  had 
made  the  statement  that  Michigan  would  beat 
Iowa  one  year  80  to  0.  Of  course,  this  rumor 
came  out  in  the  papers  on  the  day  of  the  game, 
but  Yost  says : 

"I  never  really  said  any  such  thing.  How- 
ever, we  did  beat  them  107  to  0,  whereupon  some 
fellow  from  Iowa  sent  me  a  telegram,  after  the 
game,  which  read:  'Ain't  it  awful.  Box  their 
remains  and  send  them  home.'  " 

In  Tom  Shevlin's  year  at  Yale,  1902,  Mike 
Sweeney,  his  old  trainer  and  coach  at  Hill  School, 
was  in  New  Haven  watching  practice  for  about 
four  days  before  the  first  game.     Practice  that 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  413 

day  was  a  sort  of  survival  of  the  fittest,  for  they 
w^ere  weeding  out  the  backs,  who  were  doing  the 
catching.  About  five  backs  were  knocked  out. 
A  couple  had  been  carried  off,  with  twisted  knees, 
and  still  the  coaches  were  trying  for  more  speed 
and  diving  tackles. 

Tom  had  just  obliterated  a  150-pound  half- 
back, who  had  lost  the  ball,  the  use  of  his  legs  and 
his  Varsity  aspirations  altogether.  Stopped  by 
Sweeney,  on  his  way  back  up  the  field,  Tom  re- 
marked : 

"Mike,  this  isn't  football.     It's  war." 

A  Brown  man  tells  the  following  interesting 
story : 

"In  a  game  that  we  were  playing  with  some 
small  college  back  in  1906  out  on  Andrews  Field, 
Brown  had  been  continually  hammering  one 
tackle  for  big  gains.  The  ball  was  in  the  middle 
of  the  field  and  time  had  been  taken  out  for  some 
reason  or  other.  Huggins  and  Robby  were 
standing  on  the  side  lines,  and  just  as  play  was 
about  to  be  resumed,  Robby  noticed  that  the  end 
on  the  opposing  team  was  playing  out  about  fif- 
teen feet  from  his  tackle,  and  was  standing  near 
us,  when  Robby  said  to  him: 

"  'What's  the  idea?  Why  don't  you  get  in 
there  where  you  belong?' 

"The  end's  reply  was: 

"  'I'm  wise.  Do  you  think  I'm  a  fool?  I 
don't  want  to  be  killed.'  " 


414  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

During  a  scrub  game,  the  year  thiat  Brown 
had  the  team  that  trimmed  Yale  21  to  0,  Hug- 
gins  says: 

"Goldberg,  a  big  guard  who,  at  that  time,  was 
playing  on  the  second  eleven,  kept  holding  Brent 
Smith's  foot.  Brent  was  a  tackle;  one  of  the 
best,  by  the  way,  that  we  ever  had  here  at  Brown. 
Smith  complained  to  the  coaches,  who  told  him 
not  to  bother,  but  to  get  back  into  the  game  and 
play  football.  This  he  did,  but  before  he  settled 
down  to  business,  he  said  to  Goldberg: 

"  'If  you  hold  my  foot  again,  I'll  kick  you  in 
the  face.' 

"About  two  plays  had  been  run  off,  when 
Smith  once  more  shouted: 

"  'He's  holding  me.'  Hobby  went  in  back  of 
him  and  said: 

"  'Why  didn't  you  kick  him?' 

'"Kick  him!'  replied  Brent.  'He  held  both 
my  feet!' 

Hardwick  recalls  another  incident  that  has  its 
share  of  humor,  which  occurred  in  the  Yale  bowl 
on  the  day  of  its  christening. 

"Yale  was  far  behind — some  thirty  points — 
playing  rather  raggedly.  They  had  possession 
of  the  ball  on  Harvard's  1-yard  line  and  were  at- 
tempting a  strong  rushing  attack  in  anticipation 
of  a  touchdown.  They  were  meeting  with  little 
or  no  success  in  penetrating  Pennock  and  Trum- 
bull, backed  by  Bradlee.  And  on  the  third  down 
they  were  one  yard  farther  away  from  the  goal 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  415 

than  at  the  start.  .They  attempted  another 
plunge  on  tackle,  and  were  using  that  uncertain 
form  of  offense,  the  direct  pass.  The  center  was 
a  trifle  mixed  and  passed  to  the  wrong  man,  with 
the  result  that  Yale  recovered  the  ball  on  Har- 
vard's 25-yard  line.  Wilson,  then  a  quarter  for 
Yale,  turned  to  his  center  and  asked  him  sharply : 

"  'Why  don't  you  keep  track  of  the  signals?' 

"In  a  flash,  the  center  rush  turned  and  replied: 

"  'How  do  you  expect  me  to  keep  track  of  sig- 
nals, when  I  can  hardly  keep  track  of  the  touch- 
downs.' " 

Brown  University  was  playing  the  Carlisle  In- 
dians some  ten  years  ago  at  the  Polo  Grounds  at 
New  York  City.  Bemus  Pierce,  the  Indian  cap- 
tain, called  time  just  as  a  play  was  about  to  be 
run  off,  and  the  Brown  team  continued  in  line, 
while  Hawley  Pierce,  his  brother,  a  tackle  on  the 
Indian  team,  complained,  in  an  audible  voice, 
that  some  one  on  the  Brown  team  had  been  slug- 
ging him.  Bemus  walked  over  to  the  Brown 
line  with  his  brother,  saying  to  him: 

"Pick  out  the  man  who  did  it." 

Hawley  Pierce  looked  the  Brunonians  over, 
but  could  not  decide  which  player  had  been 
guilty  of  the  rough  work.  By  this  time,  the  two 
minutes  were  up,  and  the  officials  ordered  play 
resumed.     Bemus  shouted  to  Hawley: 

"Now  keep  your  eyes  open  and  find  out  who  it 
was.  Show  him  to  me,  and  after  the  game  I'll 
take  care  of  him  properly." 


416  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

It  is  interesting  to  note  that  Bemus  only 
weighed  230  pounds  and  his  little  brother  tipped 
the  scale  at  210  pounds. 

In  1900  Brown  played  the  University  of  Chi- 
cago, at  Chicago.  During  the  second  half.  Bates, 
the  Brown  captain,  was  injured  and  was  taken 
from  the  game,  and  Sheehan,  a  big  tackle,  was 
made  temporary  captain.  At  that  time  the  score 
was  6  to  6.  Sheehan  called  the  team  together 
and  addressed  them  in  this  manner; 

"Look  here,  boys,  we've  got  thirteen  minutes  to 
play.  Get  in  and  play  like  hell.  Every  one  of 
you  make  a  touchdown.  We  can  beat  'em  with 
ease." 

For  many  years  the  last  statement  was  one  of 
Brown's  battle-cries.  Brown,  by  the  way,  won 
that  game  by  a 'score  of  12  to  6. 

A  former  Brown  man  says  that  in  a  Harvard 
game  some  few  years  ago,  Brown  had  been 
steadily  plowing  through  the  Crimson's  left 
guard.  Goldberg,  of  the  Brown  team,  had  been 
opening  up  big  holes  and  Jake  High,  Brown's 
fullback,  had  been  going  through  for  eight  and 
ten  yards  at  a  time.  Goldberg,  who  was  a  big, 
stout  fellow,  not  only  was  taking  care  of  the 
Harvard  guard,  but  was  going  through  and  mak- 
ing an  endeavor  to  clean  up  the  secondary  de- 
fense. High,  occasionally,  when  he  had  the  ball, 
instead  of  looking  where  he  was  going,  would  run 
blindly  into  Goldberg  and  the  play  would  stop 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  417 

dead.  Finally,  after  one  of  these  experiences, 
Jake  cried  out: 

"Goldberg,  if  you  would  only  keep  out  of  my 
way,  I  would  make  the  All- American." 

In  the  same  game,  High,  on  a  line  plunge,  got 
through,  dodged  the  secondary  defense  and  was 
finally  brought  down  by  Harvard's  backfield 
man,  O 'Flaherty.  Jake  always  ran  with  his 
mouth  wide  open,  and  O 'Flaherty,  who  made  a 
high  tackle,  was  unfortunate  enough  to  stick  his 
finger  in  High's  mouth.  He  let  out  a  yell  as 
Jake  came  down  on  it : 

"What  are  you  biting  my  finger  for?"  High 
as  quickly  responded: 

"What  are  you  sticking  it  in  my  mouth  for?" 

Huggins  of  Brown  says:  "The  year  that  we 
beat  Pennsylvania  so  badly  out  on  Andrews 
Field,  Brown  had  the  ball  on  Penn's  2-yard  line. 
Time  was  called  for  some  reason,  and  we  noticed 
that  the  backfield  men  were  clustered  about 
Crowther,  our  quarterback.  We  afterwards 
learned  that  all  four  of  the  back-field  wanted  to 
carry  the  ball  over.  Crowther  reached  down 
and  plucked  three  blades  of  grass  and  the  half- 
backs and  the  full-back  each  drew  one  with  the 
understanding  that  the  one  drawing  the  shortest 
blade  could  carry  the  ball.  Much  to  their  as- 
tonishment, they  found  that  all  the  pieces  of 
grass  were  of  the  same  length.  Crowther,  who 
made  the  All- American  that  year,  shouted: 


418  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

"You  all  lose.  I'll  take  it  myself,"  and  over 
tlie  line  he  went  with  the  ball  tucked  away  under 
his  arm. 

"Johnny  Poe  was  behind  the  door  when  fear 
went  by,"  says  Garry  Cochran.  "Every  one 
knows  of  his  wonderful  courage.  I  remember 
that  in  the  Harvard  '96  game,  at  Cambridge, 
near  the  end  of  the  first  half,  two  of  our  best  men 
(Ad  Kelly  and  Sport  Armstrong)  were  seri- 
ously hurt,  which  disorganized  the  team.  The 
men  were  desperate  and  near  the  breaking  point. 
Johnny,  with  his  true  Princeton  spirit,  sent  this 
message  to  each  man  on  the  team : 

"  'If  you  won't  be  beat,  you  can't  be  beat.'  " 

"This  message  brought  about  a  miracle.  It 
put  iron  in  each  man's  soul,  and  never  from  that 
moment  did  Harvard  gain  a  yard,  and  for  four 
succeeding  years — 'If  you  won't  be  beat,  you 
can't  be  beat,'  was  Princeton's  battle-cry. 

"The  good  that  Johnny  did  for  Princeton 
teams  was  never  heralded  abroad.  His  work 
was  noiseless,  but  always  to  the  point. 

"I  remember  the  Indian  game  in  '96.  The 
score  in  the  first  half  was  6  to  0,  in  favor  of  the 
Indians.  I  believe  they  had  beaten  Harvard 
and  Penn,  and  tied  Yale.  There  wasn't  a  word 
said  in  the  club  house  when  the  team  came  off  the 
field,  but  each  man  was  digging  in  his  locker  for 
a  special  pair  of  shoes,  which  we  had  prepared 
for  Yale.  Naturally  I  was  very  bitter  and  re- 
fused to  speak  to  any  one.     Then  I  heard  the 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  419 

quiet,  confident  voice  talking  to  Johnny  Baird, 
who  had  his  locker  next  to  mine.  I  can't  remem- 
ber all  he  said,  but  this  is  the  gist  of  his  conver- 
sation: 

*'  'Johnny,  you're  backing  up  the  center. 
Why  can't  you  make  that  line  into  a  fighting 
unit?  Tell  'em  their  grandfathers  licked  a  hun- 
di-ed  better  Indians  than  these  fellows  are, 
and  it's  up  to  them  to  show  they  haven't  back- 
bred.' 

"Jolmny  Baird  carried  out  these  orders,  and 
the  score,  22  to  6,  favoring  Princeton,  showed  the 
result. 

"Once  more  Johnny  Poe's  brains  lifted  Prince- 
ton out  of  a  hole.  I  could  mention  many  cases 
where  Johnny  has  helped  Princetonians,  but  they 
are  personal  and  could  not  be  published. 

'T  can  only  say,  that  when  I  lost  Johnny  Poe, 
I  lost  one  who  can  never  be  replaced,  and  I  feel 
like  a  traitor  because  I  was  not  beside  him  when 
he  fell." 

Rinehart  tells  how  he  tried  to  get  even  with 
;Sam  Boyle. 

"I  went  into  professional  football,  after  leav- 
ing Lafayette,"  says  Rinehart.  "I  joined  the 
Greensburg  Athletic  Club  team  at  Greensburg, 
Pennsylvania,  solely  for  the  purpose  of  get- 
ting back  at  Sam  Boyle,  formerly  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Penn.  He  was  playing  on  the  Pitts- 
burgh Athletic  Club." 


420  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

When  I  asked  Rinehart  why  he  wanted  to  get 
square  with  Sam  Boyle,  he  said : 

"For  the  reason  that  Sam,  during  the  Penn- 
Lafayette  contest  in  '97,  had  acted  in  a  very  un- 
sportsmanhke  manner  and  kept  telHng  his  asso- 
ciates to  kill  the  Lafayette  men  and  not  to  forget 
what  Lafayette  did  to  them  last  year,  and  a  lot 
more,  hut  possibly  it  was  fortunate  for  Sam  that 
he  did  not  play  in  our  Greensburg-Pittsburgh 
Athletic  Club  game.  I  was  ready  to  square  my- 
self for  Lafayette." 

A  lot  of  good  football  stories  have  been  going 
the  rounds,  some  old,  some  new,  but  none  of  them 
better  than  the  one  Barkie  Donald,  afterward  a 
member  of  the  Harvard  Advisory  Football  Com- 
mittee, tells  on  himself,  in  a  game  that  Harvard 
played  against  the  Carlisle  Indians  in  1896. 

It  was  the  first  time  Harvard  and  Carlisle  had 
met — Harvard  winning — 4  to  0 — and  Donald 
played  tackle  against  Bemus  Pierce. 

Donald,  none  too  gentle  a  player,  for  he  had 
to  fight  every  day  against  Bert  Waters,  then  a 
coach,  knew  how  to  use  his  arms  against  the  In- 
dian, and  also  when  charging,  how  to  do  a  little 
execution  with  his  elbows  and  the  open  hand,  just 
as  the  play  was  coming  off.  He  was  playing 
legitimately  under  the  old  game.  He  roughed  it 
with  the  big  Indian  and  caught  him  hard  several 
times,  but  finally  Bemus  Pierce  had  something 
to  say. 

"Mr.  Donald,"  he  said,  quietly,  "you  have  been 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  421 

hitting  me  and  if  you  do  it  again,  I  shall  hit  you." 
But  Donald  did  not  heed  the  warning,  and  in  the 
next  play  be  bowled  at  Bemus  harder  than  ever 
for  extra  measure.  Still  the  big  Indian  did  not 
retaliate. 

"But  I  thought  I  was  hit  by  a  sledge  hammer 
in  the  next  scrimmage,"  said  Donald  after  the 
game.  "I  remember  charging,  but  that  was  all. 
I  was  down  and  out,  but  when  I  came  to  I  some- 
how wabbled  to  my  feet  and  went  back  against 
the  Indian.  I  was  so  dazed  I  could  just  see  the 
big  fellow  moving  about  and  as  we  sparred  off 
for  the  next  play  he  said  in  a  matter  of  fact  tone : 

"  '^Ir.  Donald,  you  hit  me,  one,  two,  three 
times,  I  hit  you  only  one — we're  square.' 

"And  you  bet  we  were  square,"  Donald  always 
adds  as  he  tells  the  story. 

Tacks  Hardwick,  in  common  with  most  foot- 
ball players,  thinks  the  world  of  Eddie  Mahan. 

"I  have  played  football  and  baseball  with 
Eddie,"  he  says,  "and  am  naturally  an  ardent  ad- 
mirer of  his  ability,  his  keen  wit  and  his  thorough 
sportsmanship.  One  of  Eddie's  greatest  assets 
is  his  temperament.  He  seldom  gets  nervous. 
I  have  seen  him  with  the  bases  full,  and  with 
three  balls  on  the  batter,  turn  about  in  the  box 
with  a  smile  on  his  face,  wave  the  outfield  back, 
and  then  groove  the  ball  waist  high.  Nothing 
worried  him.  His  ability  to  avoid  tacklers  in  the 
broken  field  had  always  puzzled  me.  I  had 
studied    the    usual    methods    quite    carefully. 


422  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Change  of  pace,  reversing  the  field,  spinning 
when  tackled,  etc., — most  of  the  tricks  I  had 
given  thought  to,  but  apparently  Eddie  relied 
little  on  these.  He  used  them  all  instinctively, 
but  favored  none. 

"Charlie  Brickley  had  a  favorite  trick  of  allow- 
ing his  arm  to  be  tackled  flat  against  his  leg,  then, 
at  the  very  moment  his  opponent  thought  he  had 
him,  Charlie  would  wrench  up  his  arm  and  break 
the  grip. 

"Percy  Wendell  used  to  bowl  over  the  tackier 
by  running  very  low.  I  relied  almost  exclusively 
on  a  straight  arm,  and  'riding  a  man.'  This 
means  that  when  a  tackier  comes  with  such  force 
that  a  straight  arm  is  not  sufficient  to  hold  him 
off,  and  you  know  he  will  break  through,  you  put 
your  hand  on  the  top  of  his  head,  throw  your  hips 
sharply  away,  and  vault  as  you  would  over  a 
fence  rail,  using  his  head  as  a  support.  If  he  is 
coming  hard,  his  head  has  sufficient  power  to  give 
you  quite  a  boost,  and  you  can  'ride  him'  a  con- 
siderable distance — often  four  or  five  yards. 
When  his  momentum  dies,  drop  off  and  leave 
him.  Well,  Eddie  didn't  use  any  of  these. 
Finalty  I  asked  him  how  he  figured  on  getting  by 
the  tackier,  and  what  the  trick  was  he  used  so 
effectively. 

"  'It's  a  cinch,'  Eddie  replied.  'All  I  do  is 
poke  my  foot  out  at  him,  give  it  to  him ;  he  goes 
to  grab  it,  and  I  take  it  away!' 


—  Ti 
^  .si 


C  =3 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  423 

"Leo  Leary  had  been  giving  the  ends  a  talk 
on  being  'cagey.'  'Cagey'  play  is  foxy — such  as 
never  getting  in  the  same  position  on  every  play, 
moving  about,  doing  the  unexpected.  If  you 
wish  to  put  your  tackle  out,  play  outside  him, 
and  draw  him  out,  and  then  at  the  last  moment 
hop  in  close  to  your  own  tackle,  and  then  charge 
your  opponent.  The  reverse  is  true  as  well. 
The  unexpected  and  unusual  make  up  'cagey' 
play.  INIuch  emphasis  had  been  laid  on  this,  and 
we  were  all  thoroughly  impressed,  especially 
Weatherhead,  that  year  a  substitute. 

"Weatherhead's  appearance  and  actions  on  the 
field  were  well  adapted  to  cagey  play.  Oppo- 
nents could  learn  nothing  by  analyzing  his  ex- 
pression. It  seldom  varied.  His  walk  had  a 
sort  of  tip-toe  roll  to  it,  much  similar  to  the  con- 
ventional stage  villain,  inspecting  a  room  before 
robbing  a  safe.  In  the  course  of  the  afternoon 
game,  Weatherhead  put  his  coaching  in  practice. 

"We  had  a  habit — practically  every  team  has 
— of  shouting  'Signal'  whenever  a  player  did  not 
understand  the  orders  of  the  quarterback.  ]\Ial 
Logan  had  just  snapped  out  his  signals,  when 
Al  Weatherhead  left  his  position.  Casting  fur- 
tive glances  at  the  opponents,  and  tip-toeing 
along  like  an  Indian  scout  at  his  best,  the  very 
personification  of  'caginess,'  Weatherhead  ap- 
proached Logan.  Logan,  thinking  Al  had  dis- 
covered some  important  weak  spot  in  the  defense, 


424  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

leaned  forward  attentively.  Weatherhead  rolled 
up,  and  carefully  shielding  his  mouth  with  his 
hand,  asked  in  a  stage  whisper  'Signal.' 

"A  piece  of  thoughtfulness  that  expressed  the 
spirit  of  the  man  who  did  it,  and  also  the  whole 
team,  took  place  at  the  Algonquin  Hotel  at  New 
London,  on  the  eve  of  the  Harvard- Yale  game 
in  1914.  The  Algonquin  is  fundamentally  a 
summer  hotel,  although  it  is  open  all  the  year. 
The  Harvard  team  had  their  headquarters  there, 
and  naturally  the  place  was  packed  with  the 
squad  and  the  numerous  followers.  Eddie 
Mahan  and  I  roomed  together,  and  in  the  room 
adjoining  were  Watson  and  Swigert,  two  sub- 
stitute quarterbacks.  Folding  doors  separated 
the  rooms,  and  these  had  been  flung  open.  In 
the  night,  it  turned  cold,  and  the  summer  bed- 
ding was  insufficient.  Swigert  couldn't  sleep, 
he  was  so  chilled,  so  he  got  up,  and  went  in  search 
of  blankets.  He  examined  all  the  closets  on  that 
floor,  without  success ;  then  he  explored  the  floors 
above  and  below,  and  finally  went  down  to  the 
night  clerk,  and  demanded  some  blankets  of  him. 
After  considerable  delay,  he  obtained  two  thin 
blankets,  and  thoroughly  chilled  from  his  walk 
in  his  bare  feet,  returned  to  the  room.  Passing 
our  door,  he  spied  Eddie  curled  up  and  shivering, 
about  half  asleep.  I  was  asleep,  but  a  cold,  un- 
comfortable sleep  that  is  no  real  rest.  He 
walked  in,  and  placing  one  blanket  over  Eddie 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  425 

and  one  over  me,  went  back  to  his  own  bed  colder 
than  ever. 

"I  am  a  firm  behever  in  rough,  rugged,  aggres- 
sive, bruising  football,"  says  Hardwick.  "The 
rougher,  the  better,  if,  and  only  if,  it  is  legitimate 
and  clean  football.  I  am  glad  to  say  that  clean 
football  has  been  prevalent  in  my  experience. 
Only  on  the  rarest  occasions  have  I  felt  any  un- 
clean actions  have  been  intentional  and  premedi- 
tated. We  have  made  it  a  point  to  play  fierce, 
hard  and  clean  football,  and  have  nearly  always 
received  the  same  treatment. 

"In  my  freshman  year,  however,  I  felt  that  I 
had  been  wronged,  and  foolishly  I  took  it  to 
heart.  Since  that  time  I  have  changed  my  mind 
as  I  have  had  an  opportunity  to  know  the  player 
personally  and  my  own  observation  and  the  gen- 
eral high  reputation  he  has  for  sportsmanship 
have  thoroughly  convinced  me  of  my  mistake. 
The  particular  play  in  question  was  in  the  Yale 
1915  game.  We  started  a  wide  end  run,  and  I 
was  attempting  to  take  out  the  end.  I  dived  at 
his  knees  but  aimed  too  far  in  front,  falling  at  his 
feet.  He  leaped  in  the  air  to  avoid  me,  and  came 
down  on  the  small  of  my  back,  gouging  me  quite 
severely  with  his  heel  cleats.  I  felt  that  it  was 
unnecessary  and  foolishly  resented  it." 

One  of  the  most  famous  games  in  football  was 
the  Harvard- Yale  encounter  at  Springfield  in 
'94.     Bob  Emmons  was  captain  of  the  Harvard 


426  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

team  and  Frank  Hinkey  captain  of  Yale.  This 
game  was  so  severely  fought  that  it  was  decided 
best  to  discontinue  football  relations  between 
these  two  universities  and  no  game  took  place 
imtil  three  years  later. 

Jim  Rodgers,  who  was  a  substitute  at  Yale 
that  year,  relates  some  interesting  incidents  of 
that  game : 

"In  those  old  strenuous  days,  they  put  so  much 
fear  of  God  in  you,  it  scared  you  so  you  couldn't 
play.  When  we  went  up  to  Springfield,  we  were 
all  over-trained.  Instead  of  putting  us  up  at  a 
regular  hotel,  they  put  us  up  at  the  Christian 
Workers,  that  Stagg  was  interested  in.  The 
bedrooms  looked  like  cells,  with  a  little  iron  bed 
and  one  lamp  in  each  room,"  says  Jim.  "You 
know  after  one  is  defeated  he  recalls  these  facts 
as  terrible  experiences.  None  of  us  slept  at  all 
well  that  night,  and  ray  knees  were  so  stiff  I 
could  hardly  walk.  Yale  relied  much  on  Fred 
Murphy.  Harvard  had  coached  Hallowell  to 
get  Murphy  excited.  Murphy  was  quick  tem- 
pered. If  you  got  his  goat,  he  was  pretty  liable 
to  use  his  hands,  and  Harvard  was  anxious  to 
have  him  put  out  of  the  game.  Hallowell  went 
to  his  task  with  earnestness.  He  got  Murphy 
to  the  point  of  rage,  but  Murphy  had  been  up 
against  Bill  Odlin,  who  used  to  coach  at  And- 
over,  and  Bill  used  to  give  you  hell  if  you  slugged 
when  the  umpire  was  looking.  But  when  his 
back  was  turned  you  could  do  anything. 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  427 

"Murphy  stood  about  all  he  could  and  when 
he  saw  the  officials  were  in  a  conference  he  gave 
Hallowell  a  back-hander,  and  dropped  him  like  a 
brick.  His  nose  was  flattened  right  over  his 
cheek-bone.  Fortunately  that  happened  on  the 
Yale  side  of  the  field.  If  it  had  happened  on 
the  Harvard  side,  there  would  have  been  a  riot. 
There  was  some  noise  when  that  blow  was  de- 
livered; the  whole  crowd  in  the  stand  stood 
aghast  and  held  its  breath.  So  Harvard  laid  for 
Murphy  and  in  about  two  plays  they  got  him. 
How  they  got  him  we  never  knew,  but  suddenly 
it  was  apparent  that  Murphy  was  gone.  The 
trainer  finally  helped  IMurphy  up  and  the  cap- 
tain of  the  team  told  him  in  which  direction  his 
goal  was.  He  would  break  through  just  as  fine 
and  fast  as  before,  but  the  moment  his  head  got 
down  to  a  certain  angle,  he  would  go  down  in  a 
heap.  He  was  game  to  the  core,  however,  and 
he  kept  on  going. 

*'It  was  in  this  game  that  Wrightington,  the 
halfback,  was  injured,  though  this  never  came 
out  in  the  newspapers.  Wrightington  caught  a 
punt  and  started  back  up  the  field.  In  those 
days  you  could  wriggle  and  squirm  all  you 
wanted  to  and  you  could  pile  on  a  thousand 
strong,  if  you  liked.  Frank  Hinkey  was  at  the 
other  end  of  the  field  plaj'ing  wide,  and  ready  if 
Wrightington  should  take  a  dodge.  INIurphy 
caught  Wrightington  and  he  started  to  wriggle. 
It  was  at  this  time  that  Louis  Hinkey  came  charg- 


428  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ing  down  the  field  on  a  dead  run.  In  trying  to 
prevent  Wrightington  from  advancing  any  fur- 
ther with  the  ball,  Louis  Hinkey's  knee  hit 
Wrightington  and  came  down  with  a  crash  on  his 
collar-bone  and  neck.  Wrightington  gave  one 
moan,  rolled  over  and  fainted  dead  away.  Frank 
Hinkey  was  not  within  fifteen  yards  of  the  play, 
and  Louis  did  it  with  no  evil  intention.  Frank 
thought  that  Wrightington  had  been  killed  and 
he  came  over  and  took  Louis  Hinkey  by  the 
hand,  appreciating  the  severe  criticism  which  was 
bound  to  be  heaped  upon  his  brother  Louis. 
There  was  a  furor.  It  was  on  everybody's 
tongue  that  Frank  Hinkey  had  purposely  broken 
Wrightington's  collar-bone.  Frank  knew  who 
did  it,  but  the  'Silent  Hinkey'  never  revealed  the 
real  truth.     He  protected  his  brother. 

"Yale  took  issue  on  the  point,  and  as  a  result 
the  athletic  relationship  was  suspended. 

"It  was  in  this  game  that  Bronc  Armstrong 
established  the  world's  brief  record  for  staying  in 
the  game.  He  was  on  the  field  for  twenty 
seconds — then  was  ruled  out.  I  think  Frank 
Hinkey  is  the  greatest  end  that  was  ever  on  a 
field.  To  my  mind  he  never  did  a  dirty  thing, 
but  he  tackled  hard.  When  Frank  Hinkey 
tackled  a  man,  he  left  him  there.  In  later  years 
when  I  was  coaching,  an  old  Harvard  plaj^er  who 
was  visiting  me,  came  out  to  Yale  Field.  He 
had  never  seen  Hinkey  play  football,  but  he  had 
read  much  about  him.     I  pointed  out  several  of 


If.tT-^ 


.sAAi'i'lM;   TilE  HALL  WiTIL  LLW  lb 


"TWO  IXSEPAKAl',iJ-.> 
Frank  Hinkey  and  the  Ball. 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  429 

the  men  to  him,  such  as  Heffelfinger,  and  others 
of  about  his  type,  all  of  whom  measured  up  to  his 
ideas,  and  finally  said: 

"  'Where  is  that  fellow  Hinkey?'  And  when 
I  pointed  Hinkey  out  to  him,  he  said : 

"  'Great  guns.  Harvard  complaining  about 
that  little  shrimp.     I'm  ashamed  of  Harvard.' 

"Hinkey  was  a  wonderful  leader.  Every  man 
that  ever  played  under  him  worshipped  him.  He 
had  his  team  so  buffaloed  that  they  obeyed  every 
order,  down  to  the  most  minute  detail. 

"When  Hinkey  entered  Yale,  there  were  two 
corking  end  rushes  in  college,  Crosby  and  Josh 
Hartwell.  After  about  two  weeks  of  practice, 
there  was  no  longer  a  question  as  to  whether 
Hinkey  was  going  to  make  the  team.  It  was  a 
question  of  which  one  of  the  old  players  was  go- 
ing to  lose  his  job.  They  called  him  'consump- 
tive Hinkey.' " 

Every  football  player,  great  though  he  him- 
self was  in  his  prime,  has  his  gridiron  idol.  The 
man,  usually  some  years  his  elder,  whose  exploits 
as  a  boy  he  has  followed.  Joe  Beacham's  para- 
gon was  and  is  Frank  Hinkey  and  the  depth  of 
esteem  in  which  the  former  Cornell  star  held 
Hinkey  is  well  exemplified  in  the  following  inci- 
dent, which  occurred  on  the  Black  Diamond  Ex- 
press, Eastbound,  as  it  was  passing  through 
Tonawanda,  New  York.  Beacham  had  been 
dozing,  but  awoke  in  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of 
the  signboard  as  the  train  flashed  by.     Leaning 


430  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

slightly  forward  he  tapped  a  drummer  upon  the 
shoulder.  The  salesman  turned  around.  "Take 
off  your  hat,"  came  the  command.  "Why?"  the 
salesman  began.  "Take  off  your  hat,"  repeated 
Beacham.  The  man  did  so.  "Thank  you;  now 
put  it  on,"  came  the  command.  The  drummer 
summing  up  courage,  faced  Beacham  and  said, 
"Now  will  you  kindly  tell  me  why  you  asked  me 
to  do  this?"  Joe  smiled  with  the  satisfied  feeling 
of  an  act  well  performed  and  said:  "I  told  you 
to  lift  your  hat  because  we  are  passing  through 
the  town  where  Frank  Hinkey  was  born." 

Later,  in  the  smoking  room,  Joe  heard  the 
drummer  discussing  the  incident  with  a  crowd 
of  fellow  salesmen,  and  he  said,  concluding, 
"What  I'd  like  to  know  is  who  in  hell  is  Frank 
Hinkey?" 

And  late  that  evening  when  the  train  arrived  in 
New  York  Joe  Beacham  and  the  traveling  man 
had  become  the  best  of  friends.  In  parting,  Joe 
said :  "If  there's  anything  I  haven't  told  you,  I'll 
write  you  about  it." 

Sandy  Hunt,  a  famous  Cornell  guard  and  cap- 
tain, says: 

"Here  is  one  on  Bill  Hollenback,  the  last  year 
he  played  for  Pennsylvania  against  Cornell. 
Bill  went  into  the  game,  thoroughly  fit,  but  Mike 
Murphy,  then  training  the  team,  was  worried  lest 
he  be  injured.  In  an  early  scrimmage  Bill's 
ear  was  nearly  ripped  off.  Blood  flowed  and 
Mike  left  the  side  Mnes  to  aid.     ]\Iike  was  waved 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  431 

away  by  Bill.  'It's  nothing  but  a  scratch,  Mike, 
let  me  get  back  in  the  game.'  Play  was  re- 
sumed. Following  a  scrimmage,  JNIike  saw  Bill 
rolling  on  the  ground  in  agony.  'His  ankle  is 
gone,'  quoth  JNIike,  as  he  ran  out  to  the  field. 
Leaning  over  Bill,  ^like  said:  'Is  it  your  ankle, 
or  knee.  Bill?'     Bill,  writhing  in  agony,  gasped: 

"'No;  somebody  stepped  on  my  corn.'" 

Hardwick  has  this  to  tell  of  the  days  when  he 
coached  Annapolis: 

"One  afternoon  at  Annapolis,  the  Varsity  were 
playing  a  practice  game  and  were  not  playing  to 
form,  or  better,  possibly,  they  were  not  playing 
as  the  coaches  had  reason  to  hope.  There  was 
an  indifference  in  their  play  and  a  lack  of  snap 
and  di'ive  in  their  work  that  roused  Head  Coach 
Ingram's  fighting  blood.  Incidentally,  Ingram 
is  a  fighter  from  his  feet  up,  every  inch,  as  broad- 
minded  as  he  is  broad-shouldered,  and  a  keen  stu- 
dent of  football.  The  constant  letting  up  of 
play,  and  the  lack  of  fight,  annoyed  him  more  and 
more.  At  last,  a  Varsity  player  sat  do^vn  and 
called  for  water.  Immediately,  the  cry  was 
taken  up  by  his  team  mates.  This  was  more 
than  Ingram  could  stand.  Out  he  dashed  from 
the  side  lines,  right  into  the  grouj)  of  players, 
shaking  his  fist  and  shrieking : 

"'Water!  Water  I  What  you  need  is  fire, 
not  water! '  " 

Fred  Crolius  tells  a  good  story  about  Foster 
Sanford  when  he  was  coaching  at  West  Point. 


432  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

One  of  the  most  interesting  institutions  to  coach 
is  West  Point.  Even  in  football  field  practice 
the  same  military  spirit  is  in  control,  most  of  the 
coaches  being  officers.  Only  when  a  unique 
character  like  Sandy  appears  is  the  monotony 
shattered.  Sandy  is  often  humorous  in  his  most 
serious  moments.  One  afternoon  not  many 
weeks  before  the  Navy  game  Sandy,  as  Crolius 
tells  it,  was  paying  particular  attention  to  Moss, 
a  guard  whom  Sanford  tried  to  teach  to  play  low. 
Moss  was  very  tall  and  had  never  appreciated 
the  necessity  of  bending  his  knees  and  straighten- 
ing his  back.  Sanford  disgusted  with  Moss  as 
he  saw  him  standing  nearly  erect  in  a  scrimmage, 
and  Sandy's  voice  would  ring  out,  "Stop  the 
play.  Lieutenant  Smith.  Give  Mr.  Moss  a  side 
line  badge.  Moss,  if  you  want  to  watch  this 
game,  put  on  a  badge,  then  everybody  will  know 
you've  got  a  right  to  watch  it."  In  the  silence 
of  the  parade  ground  those  few  words  sounded 
like  a  trumpet  for  a  cavalry  charge,  but  Sandy 
accomplished  his  purpose  and  made  a  guard  of 
Moss. 

The  day  Princeton  played  Yale  at  New  Haven 
in  1899,  I  had  a  brother  on  each  side  of  the  field; 
one  was  Princeton  Class,  1895,  and  the  other  was 
an  undergraduate  at  Yale,  Class  of  1901. 

My  brother,  Dick,  told  me  that  his  friends  at 
Yale  would  joke  him  as  to  whether  he  would  root 
for  Yale  or  Princeton  on  November  25th  of  that 
year.     I  did  not  worry,  for  I  had  an  idea.    A 


CRASH  OF  CONFLICT  433 

friend  of  his  told  me  the  following  stoiy  a  week 
after  the  game : 

"You  had  been  injured  in  a  mass  play  and  were 
left  alone,  for  the  moment,  laid  out  upon  the 
ground.  No  one  seemed  to  see  you  as  the  play 
continued.  But  Dick  was  watching  your  every 
move,  and  when  he  saw  you  were  injured  he  vol- 
untarily arose  from  his  seat  and  rushed  down  the 
aisle  to  a  place  opposite  to  where  you  were  and 
was  about  to  go  out  on  the  field,  when  the  Prince- 
ton trainer  rushed  out  upon  the  field  and  stood 
you  on  your  feet,  and  as  Dick  came  back,  he  took 
his  seat  in  the  Yale  grandstand.  Yale  men 
knew  then  where  his  interest  in  the  game  lay." 

After  Arthur  Poe  had  kicked  his  goal  from 
the  field,  Princeton  men  lost  themselves  com- 
pletely and  rushed  out  upon  the  field.  In  the 
midst  of  the  excitement,  I  remember  my  brother, 
George,  coming  out  and  enthusiastically  congrat- 
ulating me. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
LEST  WE  FORGET 

Maeshall  Newell 

THERE  is  no  hero  of  the  past  whose  name 
has  been  handed  down  in  Harvard's  foot- 
ball traditions  as  that  of  Marshall  Newell. 
He  left  many  lasting  impressions  upon  the  men 
who  came  in  contact  with  him.  The  men  that 
played  under  his  coaching  idolized  him,  and  this 
extended  even  beyond  the  confines  of  Harvard 
University.  This  is  borne  out  in  the  following 
tribute  which  is  paid  Newell  by  Herbert  Reed, 
that  was  on  the  Cornell  scrub  when  Newell  was 
their  coach. 

"It  is  poignantly  difficult,  even  to-day,  years 
after  what  was  to  so  many  of  us  a  very  real 
tragedy,"  says  Reed,  "to  accept  the  fact  that 
Marshall  Newell  is  dead.  The  ache  is  still  as 
keen  as  on  that  Christmas  morning  when  the 
brief  news  dispatches  told  us  that  he  had  been 
killed  in  a  snowstorm  on  a  railroad  track  at 
Springfield.  It  requires  no  great  summoning 
of  the  imagination  to  picture  this  fine  figure  of 
a  man,  in  heart  and  body  so  like  his  beloved 
Berkshire  oaks,  bending  forward,  head  down, 
and  driving  into  the  storm  in  the  path  of  the 

434 


MARSHALL  NEWELL 


LEST  WE  FORGET  435 

everyday  duty  that  led  to  his  death.  It  was,  as 
the  world  goes,  a  short  life,  but  a  fruitful  one — a 
life  given  over  simply  and  without  questioning 
to  whatever  work  or  whatever  play  was  at  hand. 

"To  the  vast  crowds  of  lovers  of  football  who 
journeyed  to  Springfield  to  see  this  superman  of 
sport  in  action  in  defense  of  his  Alma  Mater  he 
will  always  remain  as  the  personification  of 
sportsmanship  combined  with  the  hard,  clean, 
honest  effort  that  marks  your  true  football 
player.  To  a  great  many  others  who  enjoyed 
the  privilege  of  adventuring  afield  with  him,  the 
memory  will  be  that  of  a  man  strong  enough  to 
be  gentle,  of  magnetic  personality,  and  yet  withal, 
with  a  certain  reserve  that  is  found  only  in  men 
whose  character  is  growing  steadily  under  the 
urge  of  quiet  introspection.  Yet,  for  a  man  so 
self-contained,  he  had  much  to  give  to  those 
about  him,  whether  these  were  men  already  en- 
joying place  and  power  or  merely  boys  just  on  the 
horizon  of  a  real  man's  life.  It  was  not  so  much 
the  mere  joy  and  exuberance  of  living,  as  the 
wonder  and  appreciation  of  living  that  were  the 
springs  of  JMarshall  Newell's  being. 

"It  was  this  that  made  him  the  richest  poor 
man  it  was  ever  my  fortune  to  know. 

"The  world  about  him  was  to  Newell  rich  in 
expression  of  things  beautiful,  things  mj^sterious, 
things  that  struck  in  great  measure  awe  and  rev- 
erence into  his  soul.  A  man  with  so  much  light 
within  could  not  fail  to  shine  upon  others.     H^ 


436  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

had  no  heart  for  the  city  or  the  life  of  the  city, 
and  for  him,  too,  the  quest  of  money  had  no  at- 
traction. Even  before  he  went  to  school  at 
PhiUips  Exeter,  the  character  of  this  sturdy  boy 
had  begun  to  develop  in  the  surroundings  he 
loved  throughout  his  life.  Is  it  any  wonder, 
then,  that  from  the  moment  he  arrived  at  school 
he  became  a  favorite  with  his  associates,  indeed, 
at  a  very  early  stage,  something  of  an  idol  to  the 
other  boys?  He  expressed  an  ideal  in  his  very 
presence — an  ideal  that  was  instantly  recogniz- 
able as  true  and  just — an  ideal  unspoken,  but  an 
ideal  lived.  Just  what  that  ideal  was  may  per- 
haps be  best  understood  if  I  quote  a  word  or  two 
from  that  little  diary  of  his,  never  intended  for 
other  eyes  but  privileged  now,  a  quotation  that 
has  its  own  little,  dehcate  touch  of  humor  in  con- 
junction with  the  finer  phrases: 

"  'There  is  a  fine  selection  from  Carmen  to 
whistle  on  a  load  of  logs  when  driving  over 
frozen  ground;  every  jolt  gives  a  delightful  em- 
phasis to  the  notes,  and  the  musician  is  carried 
along  by  the  dictatorial  leader  as  it  were.  What 
a  strength  there  is  in  the  air!  It  may  be  rough 
at  times,  but  it  is  true  and  does  not  lie.  What 
would  the  world  be  if  all  were  open  and  frank  as 
the  day  or  the  sunshine?' 

"I  want  to  record  certain  impressions  made 
upon  a  certain  freshman  at  Cornell,  whither 
Newell  went  to  coach  the  football  team  after  his 
graduation  from  Harvard.     Those  impressions 


LEST  WE  FORGET  437 

are  as  fresh  to-day  as  they  were  in  that  scarlet 
and  gold  autumn  years  ago. 

"Here  was  a  man  built  like  the  bole  of  a  tree, 
ahght  with  fire,  determination,  love  of  sport,  and 
hunger  for  the  task  in  hand.  He  was  no  easy 
taskmaster,  but  always  a  just  one.  Many  a 
young  man  of  that  period  will  remember,  as  I  do, 
the  grinding  day's  work  when  everything  seemed 
to  go  wrong,  when  mere  discouragement  was 
gradually  giving  way  to  actual  despair,  when, 
somewhat  clogged  with  mud  and  dust  and  blood, 
he  felt  a  sudden  slap  on  the  back,  and  heard  a 
cheery  voice  saying,  'Good  work  to-day.  Keep 
it  up.'  Playing  hard  football  himself,  Newell 
demanded  hard  football  of  his  pupils.  I  wish, 
indeed,  that  some  of  the  players  of  to-day  who 
groan  over  a  few  minutes'  session  with  the  soft 
tackling  dummy  of  these  times  could  see  that 
hard,  sole  leather  tackling  dummy  swung  from 
a  joist  that  went  clear  through  it  and  armed  with 
a  shield  that  hit  one  over  the  head  when  he  did 
not  get  properly  down  to  his  work,  that  Newell 
used. 

"It  was  gi-inding  work  this,  but  through  it  one 
learned. 

"That  ancient  and  battered  dummy  is  stowed 
away,  a  forgotten  relic  of  the  old  days,  in  the 
gj^mnasium  at  Cornell.  There  are  not  a  few  of 
us  who,  when  returning  to  Ithaca,  hunt  it  up  to 
do  it  reverence. 

"Let  him  for  a  moment  transfer  his  allegiance 


438  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

to  the  scrub  eleven,  and  in  that  moment  the  Var- 
sity team  knew  that  it  was  in  a  real  football 
game.  They  were  hard  days  indeed  on  Percy 
Field,  but  good  days.  I  have  seen  Newell  play 
single-handed  against  one  side  of  the  Varsity  hne, 
tear  up  the  interference  like  a  whirlwind,  and 
bring  down  his  man.  Many  of  us  have  played  in 
our  small  way  on  the  scrub  when  for  purposes  of 
illustration  Newell  occupied  some  point  in  the 
Varsity  line.  We  knew  then  what  would  be  on 
top  of  us  the  instant  the  ball  was  snapped.  Yet 
when  the  heap  was  at  its  thickest  Newell  would 
still  be  in  the  middle  of  it  or  at  the  bottom,  as 
the  case  might  be,  still  working,  and  still  coach- 
ing. Both  in  his  coaching  at  Harvard  and  at 
Cornell  he  developed  men  whose  names  will  not 
be  forgotten  while  the  game  endures,  and  some 
of  these  developments  were  in  the  nature  of 
eleventh-hour  triumphs  for  skill  and  forceful, 
yet  none  the  less  sympathetic,  personality. 

'After  all,  despite  his  remarkable  work  as  a 
gridiron  player  and  tutor,  I  hke  best  to  think  of 
him  as  Newell,  the  man ;  I  like  best  to  recall  those 
long  Sunday  afternoons  when  he  walked  through 
the  woodland  paths  in  the  two  big  gorges,  or 
over  the  fields  at  Ithaca  in  company  much  of  the 
time  with — not  the  captain  of  the  team,  not  the 
star  halfback,  not  the  great  forward,  but  some 
young  fellow  fresh  from  school  who  was  still 
down  in  the  ruck  of  the  squad.  More  than  once 
he  called  at  now  one,  now  another  fraternity 


LEST  WE  FORGET  439 

house  and  hailed  us:  'Where  is  that  young 
freshman  that  is  out  for  my  team?  I  would  like 
to  have  him  take  a  little  walk  with  me.'  And 
these  walks,  incidentally,  had  little  or  nothing  to 
do  with  football.  They  were  great  opportunities 
for  the  little  freshman  who  wanted  to  get  closer 
to  the  character  of  the  man  himself.  No  flower, 
no  bit  of  moss,  no  striking  patch  of  foliage  es- 
caped his  notice,  for  he  loved  them  all,  and  loved 
to  talk  about  them.  One  felt,  returning  from 
one  of  these  impromptu  rambles,  that  he  had 
been  spending  valuable  time  in  that  most  wonder- 
ful church  of  all,  the  great  outdoors,  and  spend- 
ing it  with  no  casual  interpreter.  Memories  of 
those  days  in  the  sharp  practice  on  the  field  grow 
dim,  but  these  others  I  know  will  always  endure. 

"This  I  know  because  no  month  passes,  indeed 
it  is  almost  safe  to  say,  hardly  a  week,  year  in  and 
year  out,  in  which  they  are  not  insistently  re- 
surgent. 

"Marshall  Newell  was  born  in  Clifton,  N.  J., 
on  April  2,  1871.  His  early  life  was  spent 
largely  on  his  father's  farm  in  Great  Barring- 
ton,  Mass.,  that  farm  and  countryside  which 
seemed  to  mean  so  much  to  him  in  later  years. 
He  entered  Phillips  Exeter  Academy  in  the  fall 
of  1887,  and  was  graduated  in  1890.  Almost  at 
once  he  achieved,  utterly  without  effort,  a  popu- 
larity rare  in  its  quality.  Because  of  his  relation 
with  his  schoolmates  and  his  unostentatious  way 
of  looking  after  the  welfare  of  others,  he  soon 


440  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

came  to  be  known  as  Ma  Newell,  and  this  af- 
fectionate sobriquet  not  only  clung  to  him 
through  all  the  years  at  Exeter  and  Harvard, 
but  followed  him  after  graduation  whithersoever 
he  went.  While  at  school  he  took  up  athletics 
ardently  as  he  always  took  up  everything.  Thus 
he  came  up  to  Harvard  with  an  athletic  reputa- 
tion ready  made. 

"It  was  not  long  before  the  class  of  '94  began 
to  feel  that  subtler  influence  of  character  that 
distinguished  all  his  days.  He  was  a  member  of 
the  victorious  football  eleven  of  1890,  and  of  the 
winning  crew  of  1891,  both  in  his  freshman  year. 
He  also  played  on  the  freshman  football  team 
and  on  the  university  team  of  '91,  '92,  '93,  and 
rowed  on  the  Varsity  crews  of  '92  and  '93.  In 
the  meantime  he  was  gaining  not  only  the  respect 
and  friendship  of  his  classmates,  but  those  of  the 
instructors  as  well.  Socially,  and  despite  the 
fact  that  he  was  little  endowed  with  this  world's 
goods,  he  enjoyed  a  remarkable  popularity.  He 
was  a  member  of  the  Institute  of  1770,  Dickey, 
Hasty  Pudding,  and  Signet.  In  addition,  he 
was  the  unanimous  choice  of  his  class  for  Second 
Marshal  on  Class  Day.  Many  other  honors  he 
might  have  had  if  he  had  cared  to  seek  them. 
He  accepted  only  those  that  were  literally  forced 
upon  him. 

"In  the  course  of  his  college  career  he  returned 
each  summer  to  his  home  in  Great  Barrington 
and   quietly   resumed   his   work   on   the   farm. 


LEST  WE  FORGET  Ul 

After  graduation  he  was  a  remarkably  success- 
ful football  coach  at  Cornell  University,  and  was 
also  a  vast  help  in  preparing  Harvard  elevens. 
His  annual  appearance  in  the  fall  at  Cambridge 
was  always  the  means  of  putting  fresh  heart  and 
confidence  in  the  Crimson  players. 

"He  turned  to  railroading  in  the  fall  of  1896, 
acting  as  Assistant  Superintendent  of  the 
Springfield  Division  of  the  Boston  and  Albany 
Railroad.  Here,  as  at  college,  he  made  a  pro- 
found personal  impression  on  his  associates. 
The  end  came  on  the  evening  of  December  24th, 
in  1897. 

"In  a  memorial  from  his  classmates  and  friends, 
the  following  significant  paragraph  appears: 
'Marshall  Newell  belonged  to  the  whole  Univer- 
sity. He  cannot  be  claimed  by  any  clique  or 
class.  Let  us,  his  classmates,  simply  express  our 
gratitude  that  we  have  had  the  privilege  of  know- 
ing him  and  of  observing  his  simple,  grand  life. 
We  rejoice  in  memories  of  his  comradeship;  we 
deeply  mourn  our  loss.  To  those  whose  affliction 
has  been  even  greater  than  our  own,  we  extend 
our  sympathy.'  This  memorial  was  signed  by 
Bertram  Gordon  Waters,  Lincoln  Davis,  and 
George  C.  Lee,  Jr.,  for  the  class,  men  who  knew 
him  well. 

"Harvard  men,  I  feel  sure,  will  forgive  me  if 
I  like  to  believe  that  Newell  belonged  not  merely 
to  the  whole  Harvard  University,  but  to  every 
group  of  men  that  came  under  his  influence, 


442  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

whether  the  football  squad  at  Cornell  or  the  hum- 
ble track  walkers  of  the  Boston  and  Albany. 

"Remains,  I  think,  little  more  for  me  to  say, 
and  this  can  best  be  said  in  NewelFs  own  words, 
selections  from  that  diary  of  which  I  have  al- 
ready spoken,  and  which  set  the  stamp  on  the 
character  of  the  man  for  all  time.  This,  for  in- 
stance : 

"  'It  is  amusing  to  notice  the  expression  in  the 
faces  of  the  horses  on  the  street  as  you  walk 
along;  how  much  they  resemble  people,  not  in 
feature,  but  in  spirit.  Some  are  cross  and  snap 
at  the  men  who  pass ;  others  asleep ;  and  some  will 
almost  thank  you  for  speaking  to  them  or  pat- 
ting their  noses.'  And  this,  in  more  serious  vein : 
'Happened  to  think  how  there  was  a  resemblance 
in  water  and  our  spirits,  or  rather  in  their  sources. 
Some  people  are  like  springs,  always  bubbling 
over  with  freshness  and  life ;  others  are  wells  and 
have  to  be  pumped;  while  some  are  only  reser- 
voirs whose  spirits  are  pumped  in  and  there  stag- 
nate unless  drawn  off  immediately.  Most  peo- 
ple are  like  the  wells,  but  the  pump  handle  is  not 
always  visible  or  may  be  broken  off.  Many  of 
the  springs  are  known  only  to  their  shady  nooks 
and  velvet  marshes,  but,  once  found,  the  path  is 
soon  worn  to  them,  which  constantly  widens  and 
deepens.  It  may  be  used  only  by  animals,  but 
it  is  a  blessing  and  comfort  if  only  to  the  flowers 
and  grasses  that  grow  on  its  edge.' 

"Serious  as  the  man  was,  there  are  glints  and 


LEST  WE  FORGET  443 

gleams  of  quiet  humor  throughout  this  remark- 
able human  document.  One  night  in  May  he 
wrote,  'Stars  and  moon  are  bright  this  evening; 
frogs  are  singing  in  the  meadow,  and  the  fire- 
flies are  twinkling  over  the  grass  by  the  spring. 
Tree  toads  have  been  singing  to-day.  Set  two 
hens  to-night,  nailed  them  in.  If  you  want  to 
see  determination,  look  in  a  setting  hen's  eye. 
Robins  have  been  carrying  food  to  their  nests  in 
the  pine  trees,  and  the  barn  swallows  fighting  for 
feathers  in  the  air;  the  big  barn  is  filled  with 
their  conversation.' 

"In  the  city  he  missed,  as  he  wrote,  'the  light 
upon  the  hills.'  Again,  'The  stars  are  the  eyes 
of  the  sky.  The  sun  sets  like  a  god  bowing  his 
head.  Pine  needles  catch  the  hght  that  has 
streamed  through  them  for  a  hundred  years. 
The  wind  drives  the  clouds  one  day  as  if  they 
were  waves  of  crested  brown.'  Where  indeed  in 
the  crowded  city  streets  was  he  to  listen  'to  the 
language  of  the  leaves,'  and  how  indeed,  'Feel 
the  colors  of  the  West.' 

"Is  it  not  possible  that  something  more  even 
than  the  example  and  influence  of  his  character 
was  lost  to  the  world  in  his  death?  What  pos- 
sibilities were  there  not  in  store  for  a  man  who 
could  feel  and  write  like  this :  'Grand  thunder- 
storm this  evening.  Vibrations  shook  the  house 
and  the  flashes  of  lightning  were  continuous  for 
a  short  time.  It  is  authority  and  majesty  per- 
sonified, and  one  instinctively  bows  in  its  pres- 


444  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

ence,  not  with  a  feeling  of  dread,  but  of  admira- 
tion and  respect.' 

"It  was  in  the  thunder  and  shock  and  blaze  of 
just  such  a  storm  that  I  stood  not  long  ago 
among  his  own  Berkshire  Hills,  hoping  thus  to 
prepare  myself  by  pilgrimage  for  this  halting 
but  earnest  tribute  to  a  great-hearted  gentleman, 
who,  in  his  quiet  way,  meant  so  much  to  so  many 
of  his  fellow  humans." 

Walter  B.  Street 

W.  L.  Sawtelle  of  Williams,  who  knew  this 
great  plaj^er  in  his  playing  days,  writes  as  fol- 
lows: 

"No  Williams  contemporary  of  Walter  Bul- 
lard  Street  can  forget  two  outstanding  facts  of 
his  college  career:  his  immaculate  personal  char- 
acter and  his  undisputed  title  to  first  rank  among 
the  football  men  whom  Williams  has  developed. 
He  was  idolized  because  of  his  athletic  prowess; 
he  was  loved  because  he  was  every  inch  a  man. 
His  personality  lifted  his  game  from  the  level  of 
an  intercollegiate  contest  to  the  plane  of  a  man's 
expression  of  loyalty  to  his  college,  and  his  su- 
premacy on  the  football  field  gave  a  new  dignity 
to  the  undergraduate's  ideals  of  true  manhood. 

"His  name  is  indelibly  written  in  the  atliletic 
annals  of  Williams,  and  his  influence,  apparently 
cut  off  by  his  early  death,  is  still  a  vital  force 
among  those  who  cheered  his  memorable  gains 


LEST  WE  FORGET  445 

on  the  gridiron  and  who  admired  him  for  his 
virile  character." 

W.  D.  Osgood 

Gone  from  among  us  is  that  great  old-time 
hero.  Win  Osgood.  In  this  chapter  of  thorough- 
breds, let  us  read  the  tribute  George  Woodruff 
pays  him: 

*'When  my  thoughts  turn  to  the  scores  of  fine, 
manly  football  players  I  have  known  intimately, 
Win  Osgood  claims,  if  not  first  place,  at  least  a 
unique  place,  among  my  memories.  As  a  player 
he  has  never  been  surpassed  in  his  specialty  of 
making  long  and  brilliant  runs,  not  only  around, 
but  through  the  ranks  of  his  opponents.  After 
one  of  his  seventy-  or  eighty-yard  runs  his  patK 
was  always  marked  by  a  zigzag  line  of  opposing 
tacklers  just  collecting  their  wits  and  slowly 
starting  to  get  up  from  the  ground.  None  of 
them  was  ever  hurt,  but  they  seemed  temporarily 
stunned  as  though,  when  they  struck  Osgood's 
mighty  legs,  they  received  an  electric  shock. 

"While  at  Cornell  in  1892,  Osgood  made,  by 
his  own  prowess,  two  to  three  touchdowns  against 
each  of  the  strong  Yale,  Harvard  and  Princeton 
elevens,  and  in  the  Harvard-Pennsylvania  game 
at  Philadelphia  in  1894,  he  thrilled  the  spectators 
with  his  iTins  more  than  I  have  ever  seen  any  man 
do  in  any  other  one  game. 

"But  I  would  belittle  my  own  sense  of  Os- 


446  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

good's  real  worth  if  I  confined  myself  to  ex- 
patiating on  his  brilliant  physical  achievements. 
His  moral  worth  and  gentle  bravery  were  to  me 
the  chief  points  in  him  that  arouse  ti-ue  admira- 
tion. When  I,  as  coach  of  Penn's  football  team, 
discovered  that  Osgood  had  quietly  matriculated 
at  Pennsylvania,  without  letting  anybody  know 
of  his  intention,  I  naturally  cultivated  his  friend- 
ship, in  order  to  get  from  him  his  value  as  a 
player ;  but  I  found  he  was  of  even  more  value  as 
a  moral  force  among  the  players  and  students. 
In  this  way  he  helped  me  as  much  as  by  his  play, 
because,  to  my  mind,  a  football  team  is  good  or 
bad  according  to  whether  the  bad  elements  or  the 
good,  both  of  which  are  in  every  set  of  men,  pre- 
dominate. 

"In  the  winter  of  1896,  Osgood  nearly  per- 
suaded me  to  go  with  him  on  his  expedition  to 
help  the  Cubans,  and  I  have  often  regretted  not 
having  been  with  him  through  that  experience. 
He  went  as  a  Major  of  Ai'tillery  to  be  sure,  but 
not  for  the  title,  nor  the  adventure  only,  but  I 
am  sure  from  love  of  freedom  and  overwhelming 
sympathy  for  the  oppressed.     He  said  to  me : 

"  'The  Cubans  may  not  be  very  lovely,  but  they 
are  human,  and  their  cause  is  lovely.' 

"When  Osgood,  with  almost  foolhardy  brav- 
ery, sat  his  horse  directing  his  dilapidated  artil- 
lery fire  in  Cuba,  and  thus  conspicuous,  made 
himself  even  more  marked  by  wearing  a  white 
sombrero,  he  was  not  playing  the  part  of  a  fool; 


LEST  WE  FORGET  447 

he  was  following  his  natural  impulse  to  exert  a 
moral  force  on  his  comrades  who  could  under- 
stand little  but  liberty  and  bravery. 

"When  the  Angel  of  Death  gave  him  the 
accolade  of  nobility  by  touching  his  brow  in  the 
form  of  a  JNIauser  bullet,  Win  Osgood  simply 
welcomed  his  friend  by  gently  breathing  'Well,' 
a  word  typical  of  the  man,  and  even  in  death,  it 
is  reported,  continued  to  sit  erect  upon  his  horse." 

Gordon  Brown 

There  are  many  young  men  who  lost  a  true 
friend  when  Gordon  Brown  died.  He  was  their 
ideal.  After  his  college  days  were  over,  he  be- 
came very  much  interested  in  settlement  work  on 
the  East  Side  in  Xew  York.  He  devoted  much 
of  his  time  after  business  to  this  great  work  whictj 
still  stands  as  a  monument  to  him.  He  was  as 
loyal  to  it  as  he  was  to  football  when  he  played  at 
Yale.  Gordon  Brown's  career  at  Yale  was  a 
remarkable  one.  He  was  captain  of  the  greatest 
football  team  Yale  ever  had.  Whenever  the 
1900  team  is  mentioned  it  is  spoken  of  as  Gordon 
Brown's  team.  The  spirit  of  this  great  thorough- 
bred still  lives  at  Yale,  still  lives  at  Groton  School 
where  he  spent  six  years.  He  was  captain  there 
and  leader  in  all  the  activities  in  the  school.  He 
was  one  of  the  highest  type  college  men  I  have 
ever  known.  He  typified  all  the  best  there  was 
in  Yale.  He  was  strong  mentally,  as  well  as 
physically. 


448  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

It  was  my  pleasure  to  have  played  against  him 
in  two  Yale-Princeton  games,  '98  and  '99.  I 
have  never  known  a  finer  sportsman  than  he.  He 
played  the  game  hard,  and  he  played  it  fair.  He 
had  nothing  to  say  to  his  opponents  in  the  game. 
He  was  there  for  business.  Always  urging  his 
fellow  players  on  to  better  work.  Every  one 
who  knew  this  gallant  leader  had  absolute  confi- 
dence in  him.  All  admired  and  loved  him. 
There  was  no  one  at  Yale  who  was  more  uni- 
versally liked  and  acknowledged  as  a  leader  in 
all  the  relations  of  the  University  than  was  Gor- 
don Brown.  The  influence  of  such  a  man  cannot 
but  live  as  a  guide  and  inspiration  for  all  that  is 
best  at  Yale  University. 

Gordon  Brown's  name  will  live  in  song  and 
story.  There  were  with  him  Yale  men  not  less 
efficient  in  the  football  sense,  as  witnesses  the  fol- 
lowing : 

A  Yale  Song  verse  from  the  Yale  Daily  News, 
November  16th,  1900: 

Jimmy  Wear  and  Gordon  Brown, 
Fincke  and  Stillman  gaining  ground; 
Olcott  in  the  center  stands 
With  Perry  Hale  as  a  battering  ram — 
No  hope  for  Princeton; 

James  J.  Hogan 

The  boys  who  were  at  Exeter  when  that  big 
raw-boned  fellow,  Jim  Hogan,  entered  there  will 
tell  of  the  noble  fight  he  made  to  get  an  educa- 


LEST  WE  FORGET  449 

tion.  He  worked  with  his  hands  early  and  late 
to  make  enough  money  to  pay  his  way.  His 
effort  was  a  splendid  one.  He  was  never  idle, 
and  was  an  honor  man  for  the  greater  part  of 
his  stay  at  school.  He  found  time  to  go  out  for 
football,  however,  and  turned  out  to  be  one  of 
the  greatest  players  that  ever  went  to  Exeter. 
Jim  Hogan  was  one  of  the  highest  type  of  Exeter 
men,  held  up  as  an  example  of  what  an  Exeter 
boy  should  be.  His  spirit  still  lives  in  the  school. 
In  speaking  of  Hogan  recently,  Professor  Ford 
of  Exeter,  said: 

"Whenever  Hogan  played  football  his  hands 
were  always  moving  in  the  football  line.  It  was 
almost  like  that  in  the  classroom,  always  on  the 
edge  of  his  seat  fighting  for  every  bit  of  informa- 
tion that  he  could  get  and  determined  to  master 
any  particularly  difficult  subject.  It  was  inter- 
esting and  almost  amusing  at  times  to  watch  him. 
One  could  not  help  respecting  such  earnestness. 
He  possessed  great  powers  of  leadership  and 
there  was  never  any  question  as  to  his  sincerity 
and  perfect  earnestness.  He  was  not  selfish, 
but  always  trying  to  help  his  fellow  students  ac- 
complish something.  His  influence  among  the 
boys  was  thoroughly  good,  and  he  held  positions 
of  honor  and  trust  from  the  time  of  his  admis- 
sion." 

Jim  was  hungry  for  an  education — eager  to 
forge  ahead.  His  whole  college  career  was  an 
earnest  endeavor.     He  never  knew  what  it  was 


450  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

to  lose  heart.  "Letting  go"  had  no  part  in  his 
hfe. 

Jim  was  a  physical  marvel.  His  206  pounds 
of  bone  and  muscle  counted  for  much  in  the  Yale 
rush  line.  Members  of  the  faculty  considered 
him  the  highest  type  of  Yale  man,  and  it  is  said 
that  President  Hadley  of  Yale  once  referred  to 
1905  as  "Hogan's  Class." 

As  a  football  player,  Jim  had  few  equals.  He 
was  captain  of  the  Yale  team  in  his  senior  year 
and  was  picked  by  the  experts  as  an  "All- Amer- 
ican Tackle." 

Jim  Hogan  at  his  place  in  the  Yale  rush  line 
was  a  sight  worth  seeing.  With  his  jersey 
sleeves  rolled  up  above  his  elbows  and  a  smile 
on  his  face,  he  would  break  into  the  opposing 
line,  smash  up  the  interference  and  throw  the 
backs  for  a  loss. 

I  can  see  him  rushing  the  ball,  scoring  touch- 
downs, making  holes  in  the  line,  doing  everything 
that  a  great  player  could  do,  and  urging  on  his 
team  mates: 

"Harder,  Yale;  hard,  harder,  Yale." 

He  was  a  hard,  strong,  cheerful  player ;  that  is, 
he  was  cheerful  as  long  as  the  other  men  fought 
fair. 

Great  was  Jim  Hogan.  To  work  with  him 
shoulder  to  shoulder  was  my  privilege.  To  know 
him,  was  to  love,  honor  and  respect  him. 

Jim  spent  his  last  hours  in  ISTew  Haven,  and 
later  in  a  humble  home  on  the  hillside  in  Tor- 


a 


y 


LEST  WE  FORGET  451 

rington,  Conn.,  surrounded  by  loving  friends,  and 
the  individual  pictures  of  that  strong  Gordon 
Brown  team  hanging  on  the  wall  above  him,  a 
loving  coterie  of  friends  said  good-bye.  Many 
a  boy  now  out  of  college  realizes  that  he  owes  a 
great  deal  to  the  brotherly  spirit  of  Jim  Hogan. 

Thomas  J.  Shevlin 

There  is  a  college  tradition  which  embodies  the 
thought  that  a  man  can  never  do  as  much  for  the 
university  as  the  university  has  done  for  him. 

But  in  that  great  athletic  victory  of  1915,  when 
Yale  defeated  Princeton  at  New  Haven,  I  be- 
lieve Tom  Shevlin  came  nearer  upsetting  that 
tradition  than  any  one  I  know  of.  He  contrib- 
uted as  much  as  any  human  being  possibly  could 
to  the  university  that  brought  him  forth. 

Tom  Shevlin's  undergraduate  life  at  New  Ha- 
ven was  not  all  strewn  with  roses,  but  he  was  glad 
always  to  go  back  when  requested  and  put  his 
shoulder  to  the  wheel.  The  request  came  usually 
at  a  time  when  Yale's  football  was  in  the  slough 
of  despond.  He  was  known  as  Yale's  emerg- 
ency coach. 

Tom  Shevlin  had  nerve.  He  must  have  been 
full  of  it  to  tackle  the  great  job  which  was  put 
before  him  in  the  fall  of  1915.  WilHngly  did  he 
respond  and  great  was  the  reward. 

When  I  saw  him  in  New  York,  on  his  way  to 
New  Haven,  I  told  him  what  a  great  honor  I 
thought  it  was  for  Yale  to  single  him  out  from 


452  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

all  her  coaches  at  this  critical  time  to  come  back 
and  try  to  put  the  Yale  team  in  shape.  It  did 
not  seem  either  to  enthuse  or  worry  him  very 
much.     He  said: 

"I  just  got  a  telegram  from  Mike  Sweeney  to 
wait  and  see  him  in  New  York  before  going  to 
New  Haven.  I  suppose  he  wants  to  advise  me 
not  to  go  and  tackle  the  job,  but  I'm  going  just 
the  same.  Yale  can't  be  much  worse  oif  for  my 
going  than  she  is  to-day." 

The  result  of  Shevlin's  coaching  is  well  known 
to  all,  and  I  shall  always  remember  him  after  the 
game  with  that  contented  happy  look  upon  his 
face  as  I  congratulated  him  while  he  stood  on  a 
bench  in  front  of  the  Yale  stand,  watching  the 
Yale  undergraduates  carry  their  victorious  team 
off  the  field.  Walter  Camp  stood  in  the  distance 
and  Shevlin  yelled  to  him: 

"Well,  how  about  it,  Walter?" 

This  victory  will  go  down  in  Yale's  football 
history  as  an  almost  miraculous  event.  Here 
was  a  team  beaten  many  times  by  small  colleges, 
humiliated  and  frowned  upon  not  only  by  Yale, 
but  by  the  entire  college  world.  They  presented 
themselves  in  the  Yale  bowl  ready  to  make  their 
last  stand. 

As  for  Princeton  it  seemed  only  a  question  as 
to  how  large  her  score  would  be.  JVIen  had  gone 
to  cheer  for  Princeton  who  for  many  years  had 
looked  forward  to  a  decisive  victory  over  Yale. 
The   game   was    already   bottled   up   before   it 


LEST  WE  FORGET  453 

started;  but  when  Yale's  future  football  history 
is  written,  when  captain  and  coaches  talk  to  the 
team  before  the  game  next  year,  when  mass  meet- 
ings are  called  to  arouse  college  spirit,  at  ban- 
quets where  victorious  teams  are  the  heroes  of  the 
occasion,  some  one  will  stand  forth  and  tell  the 
story  of  the  great  fighting  spirit  that  Captain 
Wilson  and  his  gallant  team  exhibited  in  the 
Yale  bowl  that  November  day. 

Although  Tom  Shevlin,  the  man  that  made  it 
possible,  is  now  dead,  his  memory  at  Yale  is 
sacred  and  will  live  long.  Many  will  recall  his 
wonderful  playing,  his  power  of  leadership,  his 
Yale  captaincy,  his  devotion  to  Yale  at  a  time 
when  he  was  most  needed.  If,  in  the  last  game 
against  Harvard,  the  team  that  fought  so  won- 
derfully well  against  Princeton  could  not  do  the 
impossible  and  defeat  the  great  Haughton  ma- 
chine, it  was  not  Shevlin's  fault.  It  simply  could 
not  be  done.  It  lessens  in  not  the  slightest  de- 
gree the  tribute  that  we  pay  to  Tom  Shevlin. 

Francis  H.  Bukr 

Ham  Fish  was  a  great  Harvard  player  in  his 
day.  When  his  playing  days  were  over  Walter 
Camp  paid  him  the  high  tribute  of  placing  him 
on  the  All  Time,  All  American  team  at  tackle. 
Fish  played  at  Harvard  in  1907  and  1908,  and 
was  captain  of  the  team  in  1909.  I  know  of  no 
Harvard  man  who  is  in  a  better  position  to  pay 
a  tribute  to  Francis  Burr,  whose  spii'it  still  lives 


454  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

at  Cambridge,  than  Ham  Fish.  They  were 
team  mates,  and  when  in  1908  Burr  remained 
on  the  side  lines  on  account  of  injuries.  Ham  Fish 
was  the  acting  Harvard  captain.  Fish  tells  us 
the  following  regarding  Burr: 

"Francis  Burr  was  of  gigantic  frame,  standing 
six  feet  three  and  agile  as  a  young  mountain 
lion.  He  weighed  200  pounds.  The  incoming 
class  of  1905  was  signalized  by  having  this  man 
who  came  from  Andover.  He  stood  out  above 
his  fellows,  not  only  in  athletic  prowess  but  in 
all  around  manly  qualities,  both  mental  and 
moral.  Burr  had  no  trouble  in  making  a  place 
on  the  Varsity  team  at  Guard.  He  was  a  punter 
of  exceeding  worth.  In  the  year  of  1908  he  was 
captain  of  the  Harvard  team  and  wrought  the 
most  inestimable  service  to  Harvard  athletics  by 
securing  Percy  Haughton  as  Head  Coach. 
Hooks  Burr  was  primarily  responsible  for 
Haughton  and  the  abundance  of  subsequent  vic- 
tories. Just  when  Burr's  abilities  as  player  and 
captain  were  most  needed  he  dislocated  his  collar 
bone  in  practice.  I  shall  never  forget  the  night 
before  the  Yale  game  how  Burr,  who  had  par- 
tially recovered,  and  was  very  anxious  to  play, 
reluctantly  and  unselfishly  jnelded  to  the  coaches 
who  insisted  that  he  should  not  incur  the  risk  of 
a  more  serious  break.  Harvard  won  that  day, 
the  first  time  in  seven  years  and  a  large  share  of 
the  credit  should  go  to  the  injured  leader.     We 


LEST  WE  FORGET  455 

were  all  happy  over  the  result  but  none  of  us 
were  as  happy  as  he. 

"Stricken  with  pneumonia  while  attending  the 
Harvard  Law  School  in  1910  he  died,  leaving  a 
legacy  full  of  encouragement  and  inspiration  to 
all  Hansard  men.  He  exemplified  in  his  life  the 
Golden  Rule, — 'Do  unto  others  as  you  would 
have  them  do  unto  j^ou.'  Of  him  it  can  be  tinily 
said,  his  life  was  gentle  as  a  whole,  and  the  ele- 
ments so  mixed  in  him  that  'nature  might  stand 
up  and  say  to  all  the  world, — "He  was  a  man."  '  " 


Neil  Snow 

The  University  of  JMichigan  never  graduated 
a  man  who  was  more  universally  loved  than  Neil 
Snow.  What  he  did  and  the  way  he  did  it  has 
become  a  tradition  at  jNIichigan.  He  was  idol- 
ized by  every  one  who  laiew  him.  As  a  player 
and  captain  he  set  a  wonderful  example  for  his 
men  to  pattern  after.  He  was  a  powerful 
player;  possessing  such  determination  and  forti- 
tude that  he  would  go  through  a  stone  wall  if  he 
had  to.  He  was  their  great  all-around  athlete; 
good  in  football,  baseball  and  track.  He  had  the 
unique  record  of  winning  his  JNIichigan  INI  twelve 
times  during  his  college  course  at  Ann  Arbor. 

He  played  his  last  game  of  football  at  Pasa- 
dena, California.  Neil  was  verj^  fond  of  exer- 
cise. He  believed  in  exercise,  and  when  word 
was  sent  out  that  Neil  Snow  had  gone,  it  was 


456  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

found  that  he  had  just  finished  playing  in  a  game 
of  racquets  in  Detroit,  and  before  the  flush  and 
zest  were  entirely  gone,  the  last  struggle  and  par- 
ticipation in  athletic  contests  for  Neil  Snow  were 
over. 

It  was  my  experience  to  have  been  at  Ann  Ar- 
bor in  1900,  when  Biffy  Lee  coached  the  Michi- 
gan team.  It  was  at  this  time  that  I  met  Neil 
Snow,  who  was  captain  of  the  team,  and  when  I 
grew  to  know  him,  I  soon  realized  how  his  great, 
quiet,  modest,  though  wonderful  personality, 
made  everybody  idolize  him.  Modesty  was  his 
most  noticeable  characteristic.  He  was  always 
the  last  to  talk  of  his  own  athletic  achievements. 
He  believed  in  action,  more  than  in  words. 
After  his  playing  days  were  over  he  made  a  great 
name  for  himself  as  an  official  in  the  big  games. 
The  larger  colleges  in  the  East  had  come  to  real- 
ize with  what  great  efficiency  Neil  Snow  acted  as 
an  official  and  his  services  were  eagerly  sought. 

Neil  Snow  loved  athletics.  He  often  referred 
to  his  college  experiences.  His  example  was  one 
held  up  as  ideal  among  the  men  who  knew  him. 

When  Billy  Bannard  died  Johnny  Poe  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Bannard  a  letter,  a  portion  of  which 
follows : 

I  greatly  enjoy  thinking  of  those  glorious  days  in 
the  fall  of  '95,  '96  and  '97,  when  I  was  coaching  at 
Princeton  and  saw  so  much  of  Billy,  and  if  I  live  to  a 
ripe  old  age  I  do  not  think  I  shall  forget  how  he  and 
Ad  Kelly  came  on  in  the  Yale  game  of  '95,  and  with  the 


LEST  WE  FORGET  457 

score  of  16-0  against  us  started  in  by  steadily  rushing 
the  ball  up  to  and  over  the  Yale  goal,  and  after  the 
kickoff,  once  more  started  on  the  march  for  another 
touchdown. 

It  was  a  superb  exhibition  of  nerve  in  the  face  of  al- 
most certain  defeat  and  showed  a  spirit  that  would  not 
be  downed,  and  I  have  often  thought  of  this  game  in 
different  far-off  parts  of  the  world. 

While  Yale  finally  won  20 — 10  still  Billy  showed  the 
same  spirit  that  Farragut  showed  when  told  that  the 
river  was  filled  with  torpedoes  and  that  it  would  be 
suicidal  to  proceed.  He  replied,  "Damn  the  torpedoes, 
full  steam  ahead!" 

I  love  to  think  of  Billy's  famous  fift}'  j^ard  run  for 
a  touchdown  through  the  Harvard  team  in  '96  at  Cam- 
bridge, when  the  score  had  been  a  tie,  and  how  he  with 
Ad  Kelly  and  Johnny  Baird  went  through  the  Yale 
team  in  that  '96  game  and  ran  the  score  up  to  24, 
representing  five  touchdowns.  Never  before  had  a  Yale 
team  been  driven  like  chaff  before  the  wind,  as  that  blue 
team  was  driven. 

Billy  Bannard  and  Ad  Kelly's  names  were  al- 
ways coupled  in  their  playing  days  at  Princeton. 
These  two  halfbacks  were  great  team  mates. 
When  Bill  Bannard  died  Ad  Kelly  lost  one  of 
his  best  friends. 

In  Ad  Kelly's  recollections,  we  read: 
"Whenever  I  think  of  my  playing  days  I  al- 
ways recall  the  Harvard-Princeton  game  of  1896, 
and  with  it  comes  a  tribute  to  one  of  us  who  has 
passed  to  the  great  beyond;  one  with  whom  I 
played  side  by  side  for  three  years,  Bill  Ban- 
nard.    I  always  thought  that  in  this  particular 


458  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

game  he  never  received  the  credit  due  him.  In 
my  opinion  his  run  on  that  memorable  day  was 
the  best  I  have  ever  seen.  His  running  and 
dodging  and  his  excellent  judgment  had  no  su- 
perior in  the  football  annals  of  our  day. 

"In  speaking  of  great  individual  plays  that 
have  won  close  games,  his  name  should  go  down 
with  Charlie  Daly,  Clint  Wyckoff,  Arthur  Poe, 
Snake  Ames  and  Dudley  Dean,  for  with  Reiter's 
splendid  interference  in  putting  out  the  Har- 
vard left  end,  Billy  Bannard's  touchdown  gave 
Princeton  the  confidence  to  carry  her  to  victory 
that  day  and  to  the  ultimate  championship  two 
weeks  later." 

Harry  Hooper 

When  Harry  Hooper,  one  of  Dartmouth's 
greatest  players,  was  taken  away,  every  man 
who  knew  Hooper  felt  it  a  great  personal  loss. 
Those  who  had  seen  him  play  at  Exeter  and 
there  formed  his  acquaintance  and  later  at  Dart- 
mouth saw  him  develop  into  the  mighty  center 
rush  of  the  1903  Dartmouth  team,  idolized  him. 

C.  E.  Bolser  of  Dartmouth,  who  knew  him 
well,  says: 

"Harry  Hooper  was  a  great  center  on  a  great 
team.  The  success  of  this  eleven  was  due  to  its 
good  fellowship  and  team  work.  The  central 
figure  was  the  idol  of  his  fellow  players.  Such 
was  Hooper.  Shortly  after  the  football  season 
that  year  he  was  operated  upon  for  appendicitis 


LEST  WE  FORGET  459 

and  it  soon  became  evident  that  he  could  not  re- 
cover.    He  was  told  of  his  plight. 

"He  bravely  faced  the  inevitable  and  expressed 
the  wish  that  if  he  really  had  to  go  he  might  have 
with  him  at  the  last  his  comrades  of  the  football 
field.  These  team  mates  rallied  at  his  request. 
They  surrounded  him;  they  talked  the  old  days 
over,  and  supported  by  those  with  whom  he  had 
fought  for  the  glory  of  his  college  this  real  hero 
passed  into  the  Great  Beyond,  and  deep  down  in 
the  traditions  of  Dartmouth  and  Exeter  the  name 
of  Harry  Hooper  is  indehbly  written." 

The  game  of  football  is  growing  old.  The 
ranks  of  its  heroes  are  being  slowly  but  surely 
thinned.  The  players  are  retiring  from  the  game 
of  life;  some  old  and  some  young.  The  list 
might  go  on  indefinitely.  There  are  many  names 
that  deserve  mention.  But  this  cannot  be.  The 
list  of  thoroughbreds  is  a  long  one.  Yours  must 
be  a  silent  tribute. 

Doctor  Andrew  J.  McCosb,  Ned  Peace,  Gus 
Holly,  Dudley  Riggs,  Harry  Brown,  Symmes, 
Bill  Black,  Pringle  Jones,  Jerry  McCauley,  Jim 
Rhodes,  Bill  Swartz,  Frank  Peters,  George  Still- 
man,  H.  Schoellkopf,  Wilson  of  the  'Navy  and 
Byrne  of  the  Army,  Eddie  Ward,  Albert  Rosen- 
garten,  McClung,  Dudley  and  INIatthews. 

Richard  Harding  Davis  and  JNIatthew  Mc- 
Clung were  two  Lehigh  men  whose  position  in 
the  football  world  was  most  prominent.  The 
esteem  in  which  they  are  held  by  their  Alma 


460  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

Mater  is  enduring.  I  had  talked  with  Dick 
Davis  when  this  book  was  in  its  infancy.  He 
was  very  much  interested  and  asked  that  I  write 
him  a  letter  outlining  what  I  would  like  to  have 
him  send  me.  Just  before  he  died  I  received  this 
letter  from  him.  I  regret  he  did  not  live  to  tell 
the  story  he  had  in  mind. 

RICHARD  HARDING    DAVIS     /^  /     i  /,       a  Z /^ 
MOUNT    K.sco  6/^*^26^^^ 

NEW   YORK  f  ^ 

His  interest  in  football  had  been  a  keen  one. 
He  was  one  of  the  leaders  at  Lehigh,  who  first 
organized  that  University's  football  team.  He 
was  a  truly  remarkable  player.  What  he  did  in 
football  is  well  known  to  men  of  his  day.  He 
loved  the  game ;  he  wrote  about  the  game ;  he  did 
much  to  help  the  game. 


H 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ALOHA 

* '  "•■  "^^  AIL  and  Farewell,"  crowded  by  the 
Hawaiians  into  one  pregnant  word! 
Would  that  this  message  might 
mean  as  much  in  as  little  compass.  I  can  prom- 
ise only  brevity  and  all  that  brevity  means  in  so 
vast  a  matter  as  football  to  a  man  who  would 
love  nothing  better  than  to  talk  on  forever. 

We  know  that  football  has  really  progressed 
and  improved,  and  that  the  boys  of  to-day  are 
putting  football  on  a  higher  plane  than  it  has 
ever  been  on  before.  We  are  a  progressive, 
sporting  public. 

Gone  are  the  old  Fifth  Avenue  horse  buses, 
that  used  to  carry  the  men  to  the  field  of  bat- 
tle; gone,  too,  are  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  and 
the  Hoffman  House,  with  their  recollections  of 
great  victories  fittingly  celebrated.  The  old  wa- 
ter bucket  and  sponge,  with  w^hich  Trainer  Jim 
Robinson  used  to  rush  upon  the  field  to  freshen 
up  a  tired  player,  are  now  things  of  the  past. 
To-day  we  have  the  spectacle  of  Pooch  Donovan 
giving  the  Harvard  plajxrs  water  from  individ- 
ual sanitary  drinking  cups ! 

The  old  block  game  is  no  more.     Heavy  mass 

461 


462  FOOTBALL  DAYS 

play  has  been  opened  up.  To-day  there  is  some- 
thing for  the  pubhc  to  see;  something  interesting 
to  watch  at  every  point;  something  significant  in 
every  move.  As  a  result,  greatly  increased  mul- 
titudes witness  the  game.  No  longer  do  foot- 
ball enthusiasts  stand  behind  ropes  on  the  side 
hues.  The  popularity  of  the  game  has  made  it 
necessary  to  build  huge  stadia  for  the  sport,  to 
take  the  place  of  the  old  wooden  stands. 

College  games,  for  the  most  part,  nowadays  are 
played  on  college  grounds.  Accordingly  the 
sport  has  been  withdrawn  from  the  miscellaneous 
multitude  and  confined  to  the  field  where  it  really 
belongs  and  the  spirit  of  the  game  is  now  just 
what  it  should  be — exclusively  collegiate. 

Best  of  all,  the  modern  style  of  play  has  made 
the  game  more  than  ever  a  heroic  see-saw,  with 
one  side  uppermost  for  a  time  only  to  jar  the 
very  ground  with  the  shock  of  its  fall. 

Yet,  victorious  or  defeated,  the  spirit  through 
it  all  is  one  of  splendid  and  overflowing  college 
enthusiasm.  While  there  is  abounding  joy  in 
an  unforeseen  or  hard  won  victory  there  is  also 
much  that  is  inspirational  in  the  sturdy,  cour- 
ageous, devoted  support  of  college-mates  in  the 
hour  of  defeat. 

Isaac  H.  Bromley,  Yale  '53,  once  summed  up 
eloquently  the  spirit  of  college  life  and  sport  in 
the  following  words : 

"These  contests  and  these  triumphs  are  not  all 
there  is  of  college  life,  but  they  are  a  not  unim- 


ALOHA  463 

portant  part  of  it.  The  best  education,  the 
most  useful  training,  come  not  from  the  class- 
room and  from  books,  but  from  the  attrition  of 
mind  on  mind,  from  the  wholesome  emulation  en- 
gendered by  a  common  aim  and  purpose,  from 
the  whetting  of  wits  by  good-natured  rivalry,  the 
inspiration  of  youthful  enthusiasms,  the  blending 
together  of  all  of  us  in  undying  love  for  om*  com- 
mon Mother. 

"As  to  the  future:  We  may  not  expect  this 
unbroken  round  of  victories  to  go  on  forever ;  we 
shall  need  sometimes,  more  than  the  inspiration 
of  victory,  the  discipline  of  defeat.  And  it  will 
come  some  day.  Our  champions  will  not  last 
forever.  Some  time  Stagg  must  make  his  last 
home  run,  and  Camp  his  final  touchdown.  Some 
day  Bob  Cook  will  'hear  the  dip  of  the  golden 
oars'  and  'pass  from  sight  with  the  boatman  pale.' 

"It  would  be  too  much  to  think  that  all  their 
successors  will  equally  succeed.  It  might  be 
monotonous.  But  of  one  thing  we  may  be  as- 
sured— that  whatever  happens,  we  shall  never 
fail  to  extend  the  meed  of  praise  to  the  victors. 
We  shall  be  hereafter,  as  in  the  past  we  have  al- 
ways been,  as  stout  in  adversity  as  we  have  been 
merry  in  sunshine." 

•  •  •  •'  •;  _•_  • 

*'Then  strip,  lads,  and  to  it 
Though  sharp  be  the  weather; 
And  if,  by  mischance  you  should  happen  to  fall 
There  are  worse  things  in  life 
Than  a  tumble  on  heather 
And  life  is  itself,  but  a  game,  of  football." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 

iF,C'D  LD-URL 
£     SEP  23  1969 

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